


Silver and Magic

by Dragon_Dweller



Category: The Witcher (TV), The Witcher - Alternate Universe, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, Aretuza, Attacks, Bard - Freeform, Battle, Belonging, Betrayal, Bit of an alternate universe, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Bruxa, Conduit Moment, Creatures, Devotion, Dragon Mark, Dragon Speech, Dragonkin, Dragons, Dreams, Drinking, Elder Speech, Ex-Lover, F/M, Fallen kingdom - Freeform, Family Feels, Feelings, Feels, Fire, Forgotten kingdom, Healing, Injury, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Lore - Freeform, Loving Marriage, Mage, Magic, Marking, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Mixed Fandoms, Mobs, Monsters, Mystical Creatures, Nightmares, Orphans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past, Peace, Pet Names, Poison, Rectoress - Freeform, Rough Sex, Runes, Scents & Smells, Sex, Shapeshifting, Singing, Sorcerers, Sorceress, Sorceresses, Soulmates, Swordfighting, Swords & Sorcery, The Continent, Thuum, True Love, Violence, Weapons, Witcher - Freeform, angry mobs, creature - Freeform, dragon - Freeform, dragon lore, forgotten, husband, legend, minor animal death, myth, old flame, reader - Freeform, shadowmere - Freeform, silver - Freeform, sorcery, vampire, wife - Freeform, yeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 98,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23540098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Dweller/pseuds/Dragon_Dweller
Summary: You're a Sorceress, Healer and occasional Monster Hunter, who meets the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, when you're in the middle of fighting a Bruxa.Neither of you expected your paths to cross again...or where that path takes you both together!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/You, Geralt/You, Geralt/reader
Comments: 37
Kudos: 343





	1. Bruxa Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re a Sorceress, healer and occasional monster killer. While dealing with a Bruxa, you meet the Great White Wolf and his Bard friend.

You hissed as the Bruxa's claw tore into your shoulder, dropped down to one knee and pressed a hand to the gaping wound. You looked up at the creature as it laughed at you, your blood dripping from its sharp fingers, it brought the claw to its mouth and licked your blood off, in one long swipe of its tongue. Shaking your head, you pushed yourself back up to your feet, breathing hard, and growled at the cursed creature, you will be damned, if you'll let the thing best you. The Bruxa screeched, high pitched, like nails on a chalk board, and started running at you again, giving you just enough time to throw your hand out and cast an Aard, sending the powerful Vampire flying backwards with the shock wave. The creature shifted into a sleek, black bat just before it hit the forest floor, hovered a few inches off the ground for a moment, like it was dazed, then turned its attention back to you.

“Well, fuck.” You grunted, sensing how pissed off you just made it and pivoted on your heels, running back towards where you originally dropped your sword.

The Bruxa screamed again, making you see multicolored circles in your eyes and momentarily blacking out your vision, you stumbled, and fell to your hands and knees. When your vision cleared again, you scrambled the last few feet to your weapon, wrapped your bloody hand around the black leather hilt and rolled onto your back, swung the sword down, parallel to your body, as the Bruxa reached you, and sliced through its wing with a nasty crunch. The Bruxa faltered on its remaining wing, then dropped like a stone to the ground beside you. Letting out a hard breath, you dropped your sword to the mud next to you and stared up at the darkening sky above the canopies. Time seemed to have stood still while you fought the Vampire, you weren't sure if it had lasted five minutes or five hours, and now that time started ticking again, the exhaustion of the battle started to seep into your body. Groaning, you sat up, rolling onto your hands and knees, then up on your wobbly feet, you surveyed the damage to your body, sighing. The gash on your shoulder was ugly, but nothing you couldn't mend, the rip in your pants where the creature had tried biting you was even less worrying, it had only succeeded in tearing the fabric and grazing the skin. You were sure several of your ribs were bruised and broken, by the way it hurt to take any type of breath.

Other than all that, you would live another day, thankfully.

You had started to bend over to pick up your blade, when you heard a sharp whoosh of air behind you, turning, sword raised, you came face to face with the one armed Bruxa, mouth open wide and fangs bared to you, but it had a look of startled shock on its face. Both your eyes dropped to the sword protruding from its side, the whole blade went through one side of the Vampire and came out the other, the creature looked back to you, made a strangled gargle sound in its throat, and fell over. _Dead_. Your head snapped around and found the owner of the sword; a tall, very muscular, white haired man with eyes of Amber-gold. You didn't need a brain to know who the man was, tales and songs followed this man, like a ghost haunted a graveyard.

“I had that, Witcher.” You said with a huff, lowering your sword.

“It looked like it.” The Witcher deadpanned, moving forward to the Bruxa's body, and yanked his sword out of its body. “What is a woman doing in the middle of nowhere? Fighting a Vampire, none the less.”

“Just that, Witcher.” You answered, sheathing your sword. “Fighting a Vampire.”

“Sounds like you have a death wish, Human.” The Witcher said, in a gruff voice.

“No more than usual, Mutant.” You retorted, dryly. “and I'm a Sorceress, not a Human.” You informed him, making your way over to your horse. “You all right, Shadow?” You asked it, patting his neck and looking him over. “Yeah, you're just fine.” You smiled him, when he whinnied at you.

The Witcher watched you with the horse, listening to you speak to it, and felt an odd camaraderie with you. “So, why were you fighting a Bruxa?”

“Because, I felt like it.” You sighed, unbelting your sword and securing it to Shadow's saddle. “It attacked me.” You groaned, seeing the look on the Witcher's face. “Didn't help I was looking for it, surely, but it found me first.”

“A Sorceress,” He looked, dubious. “looking for a Bruxa, on her own.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Doing a Witcher's job.”

“Well, there's not many of you Witchers around any more,” You countered, turning to face him. “People can't wait around for one of you to roam in, knight and shining amour, to save them. You don't get to many of the people that do need your help, when you are in the area, to start with.”

The Witcher pressed his lips together and nodded, he knew you were right. “More than fair, I suppose.”

“Geralt!” A light voice called from the treeline behind the Witcher, making his shoulders slump. “Geralt, why do you always do that!” a man in a very loud outfit asked, coming into view. “You're always leaving me behind, I could have been eaten by a....Oh!” He exclaimed, nearly stepping on the Bruxa's body. “by one of those.” He said, pointing a shaky finger at it.

“Luckily for you, Jaskier, it's already dead.” The Witcher, Geralt, grunted and rolled his eyes at his Bard friend.

Jaskier looked up from the Vampire's body, mouth open to make some witty remark at Geralt, you were sure, when he noticed you. “Oh, hello!” He grinned, turning his artist charm on to the max. “Who are you?” He asked, bowing to you, dramatically. “I'm Julian Alfred Pankratz, but everyone calls me, Jaskier.”

“Y/n.” You replied, smirking at his antics.

“A pleasure, I am sure.” Jaskier smiled, taking your hand delicately into his, and kissing your fingers. “I see, you've met my grumpy friend, Geralt of Rivia.”

“Any intelligent person knows who the White Wolf is.” You chuckled, looking both the Bard and the Witcher over.

“Would you happen to know, if there's a inn anywhere near by?” Jaskier asked, shouldering his lute.

You sighed, painfully pulling yourself up into Shadow's saddle. “Yeah, Andsall is an hour's ride to the east of us, I'm heading that way now, if you'd like to follow me.” You offered them, turning Shadow in the direction of the small town.

“We would appreciate it.” Geralt told you, softly. “I'll go grab Roach.” He said, turning and trudging through the trees.

You looked down at Jaskier, lifting an eyebrow at him in question, and nodded, when the Bard mouthed, his horse. Geralt came back, leading a beautiful Bay mare by the reins, and halted beside the corpse of the Bruxa, looking it over, he bent and picked it up, draping its stiffening body of Roach's back, and moved to your side, raising an eyebrow at you. Getting the hint, you gently thumped Shadow on the sides and led the Witcher and Bard towards Andsall. The air between the three of you was a mixture of awkward and peaceful silence, except for the few bars of some song Jaskier would hum or mumble under his breath, before Geralt would slap in him on arm, shutting him up.

“Is there someone you need this taken too?” Geralt asked, as the town came into view over a ridge.

“The alderman.” You answered, sliding out of the saddle and tying Shadow to the post outside the inn. “He's this way,” You told him, turning to walk down the town's single muddy street, and headed towards the tallest and only stone made building in the bunch. “He's a bit of a prick, by the way.” You added, lifting an eyebrow at him and banging on the thick wooded door.

“Aren't all aldermen?” Geralt asked, stony.

“Touche.” You snorted, pounding on the door again.

“Yes, Yes!” The alderman barked, yanking the heavy door open. “What do you want, Witch!” He snapped, seeing your face.

“Your Bruxa.” You sneered, rolling your eyes towards Roach's load.

“You actually killed it!” He squeaked, seeing the creature.

“ _We_ killed it, actually.” You corrected him, motioning to Geralt.

“Good lord, Witcher.” the alderman panted, shielding himself with the door.

Both you and Geralt rolled your eyes at him, at the same time. “Your pest problem is fixed, give me my gold.” You told him, not in the mood for skittish, judgmental and sexist men.

“O-of course!” the alderman choked, fishing in his pocket and pulling out a hefty leather pouch, tossing it to you. “Th-thank you.” He mumbled, and slammed the door closed.

“Men.” You grumbled, pulling open the pouch and checked the amount of gold inside. “Just drop the the thing here, he can deal with it from now on.” You told Geralt, turning back towards the inn.

You ordered food and a drink at the inn, and found a good back corner table to enjoy your meal at, lifting an eyebrow, when Jaskier slid into the seat next to you and Geralt seated himself across from you, with their own meals. You sat back against the wall behind you, pulling the coin pouch out of your pocket and dumped the coins on the table. Both men watched you count, then split the gold into two even and neat stacks, sliding one of the stacks across the table to Geralt, and put the other stack back into the pouch.

“For your help, killing the Bruxa.” You explained, when Geralt lifted a brow at you. “It's only fair.” You told him, picking up your fork and digging into your dinner.

“Wow.” Jaskier rasped, choking on his gulp of ale.

“What?” You frowned, eyeing him.

“People don't generally share things with Geralt.” He elaborated, thumping himself on the chest. “Even when he deserves it, or is owed it.” He coughed, pounding himself on the chest, harder. “Especially, not gold.”

“Well,” You cleared your throat, picking up the ale pitcher and poured Jaskier another tankard. “I believe in being fair, even when others don't. There's enough assholes in the world, I don't need to add on to it.” You sighed, refilling your own tankard.

“Considerate of you.” Geralt commented, around the rim of his tankard.

You gave Geralt a tight smile and took a gulp of your ale. “Thank you.”

“Jaskier, why don't you go to the innkeeper and get us a room.” Geralt said, setting his ale down and picked a piece of bread up off his plate.

“You're not going to get one.” You informed them, popping a piece of cheese into your mouth. “I got the last one.”

“Great.” Jaskier sighed, slowly sitting back down. “Another night roughing it.”

“You can share my room.” You offered, looking between them. “I know, the floor probably isn't much better. But, at least, it's out of the weather and has a warm hearth.”

“That's very kind of you.” Geralt said softly, inclining his head towards you.

“Quite.” Jaskier nodded, smiling sweetly.

“You helped me, so I'm helping you.” You shrugged, giving them back a half smile.

You ordered another pitcher of ale for the three of you, and watched Geralt and Jaskier really loosen up, not that Jaskier needed any help in that department. He downed the rest of his tankard and picked up his lute, declaring rather loudly that he was going to do an impromptu performance, stood up on an empty table and started strumming his instrument. You chuckled at Geralt's grunted hm, shaking his head and bending over his drink more.

“Embarrassed by your friend?” You teased him.

“Yes and no.” Geralt husked, shaking his head and grunted as Jaskier started to sing the infamous _Toss a coin to your Witcher_ ballad.

' _They came after me  
With masterful deceit  
Broke down my lute  
And they kicked in my teeth..._'

“I'll leave you to him, then.” You laughed, pushing your empty plate and tankard away from you. “The room is up the stairs, last door on the left.” You told him, getting up and heading that way.

You dragged your saddlebag over and sat down on the edge of the bed, riffling through it for bandages, a small vial of Lavender oil and the few herbs you had in it. Setting the linen bandages on the bed next to you, and sorting through the herbs, until you found the ones you wanted and put the rest back in their gauze pouches, tucking them in your bag again, and pulling out a small, portable mortar and pestle. Setting the mortar on the nightstand, you dropped the herbs into it and poured in a bit of the oil, using the pestle to crush and mix them together into the concoction you needed to tend your wounds.

“Would you like some help with that?” Geralt's voice asked, coming into the room and seeing what you were doing.

You smiled, looking up at him. “It would be nice.”

Nodding his head once, Geralt took the pestle from you, his long and rough fingers brushing against yours as he did. He pulled a chair up close to you and finished grinding the herbs up. He leaned forward, pushing apart the tear in your shirt and looked at the wound on your shoulder, it was deeper at the top, where the claw initially dug into your skin, than it was at the other end of the gash, stopping just below your collarbone. He gently pushed around the edges of the cut, checking for any pockets of fluids, and carefully ran his fingers over your collarbone, making sure it wasn't broken.

“It's nasty,” He told you, getting up to grab a cloth and the pitcher of water, sitting on the mantle of the hearth. “But, nothing you shouldn't heal from.” He sat back down in front of you. “It does need stitches though, so you'll need to take your shirt off.”

“That's one way to ask a woman to get naked for you.” You joked, gingerly pulling your shirt off over your head and tossing it to the floor.

“Funny.” Geralt smirked, surprising you by the pleasant change it gave his ordinarily stony and grumpy face.

Geralt wet the cloth and carefully cleaned away the blood and dried sweat from your wound, keeping his amber-gold eyes on it and not your naked torso that was inches from his face. Dropping the bloody cloth to the floor, Geralt turned to the mortar and gently applied a bit of the mixture to your wound, making you wince and grunt, he glanced up at you, his eyes giving you a silent apology.

“Do you have anything to stitch this up with?” He asked, picking up one of the linen bandages and holding it to a spot on your wound that started to bleed again.

“Yeah, in my bag, front pocket.” You told him, pressing the bandage to your shoulder, while he searched your bag, pulling out a roll of thread and a cork, that the needle was pushed into.

“All right.” Geralt sighed, threading the needle. “I'm not much of a healer.” He commented, leaning forward.

“Don't need to be, just decent with a needle.” You replied, licking your lips as your body tingled with anticipation of the needle going through your skin. “As long as you can close the wound, without causing any more damage, is good enough in my book.”

“I've closed my fair share of wounds.” He answered, carefully pinching your wound closer together with his free hand. “Mostly my own, though.” He snorted, pushing the needle through the skin at the top of your wound, wincing himself as he heard you groan. “That should be all right.” He said, trying off the last stitch and applying a bit more of the herb and Lavender mixture, then wrapped a bandage around it. “I'm rather impressed you were able to take on that Bruxa, and only come out with such minor wounds.”

“Well, I'm not an amateur.” You laughed, going into your bag and pulling out a fresh shirt, struggling into it.

“You're not a Witcher, either.” Geralt laughed back, toeing his boots off.

“Do you need to be, to kill something?” You asked him, sarcastically.

“I suppose not.” He replied, lifting an amused brow at you. “Still impressed, even though, I had to save you.”

“Excuse you!” You barked at him, turning towards him. “I did _all_ the dirty work of fighting the damn thing, cutting its wing...arm...what the fuck ever, off. You just happened to spear it through with your sword, before I had the opportunity to kill it myself.” You defended yourself.

Geralt stood by the hearth, his bed roll in his hands and a faint, amused smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, then tilted his head, frowned in agreement, and finished laying his blanket out on the floor. “Fine, I just showed up at the right time, and I was just quicker than you.”

“Uh!” You squeaked, working your mouth open and closed, looking at him, flabbergasted. “Rude.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders at you and sat down on his blankets, laying back and folding his arms behind his head. “Where did a Sorceress learn to fight like that, anyway?” He asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“Decades of boredom, trail and error, and a mentor.” You answered, piling your pillows up against the headboard and resting back against them.

“Did you,” Geralt paused, frowning at the rough wooden beams of the ceiling, his heart twinging for a split second. “learn at Aretuza?”

“I did, my conduit moment was saving a childhood from a Alghoul.” You explained, recalling the moment like it was yesterday, and not a hundred and two years before.

“How did you manage that, as a conduit moment?” He asked, turning his head towards you.

“I, uh, made its head explode, actually.” You chuckled, it still freaked you out that you caused the creature to pop like a bubble, even now that you knew what the spell was you had unknowingly used then. “Scared the life out of both of us, him more than me really, since the blood got all over him. Tissaia came for me two days later, and I spent nearly twenty years there, before ascending.”

“What court did you go too?”

“None.” You sighed, rubbing your face. “I didn't want to go to court, I don't care about advising pompous Royal assholes and putting balm on their bruised egos, when they don't get what they want. I wanted to do something that felt like it mattered.” You confessed, resting your hands on your stomach. “So, I mostly offer my abilities as a healer, in towns and cities. Occasionally, they'll ask me to deal with a possession or a monster, if they haven't heard you or any other Witchers are nearby. That's what I was doing with the Bruxa, I was here to heal a nobleman, his wife sent for me. The alderman heard I was in town and asked me to deal with the Bruxa.” You explained to him, twirling your thumbs. “What are you and the Bard doing here?”

“Passing through, mostly.” Geralt answered, his eyes closed. “I'm going back north and Jaskier is returning to Rinde, to his countess lover.”

“How romantic.” You laughed, then groaned as it pulled on your stitches.

“That's the Bard, for you.” He huffed, amused. “Where are you off to next?” Geralt asked, after a moment of silence. “Y/n?” He called your name, then sat up on his elbows and smirked, seeing you had fallen asleep. “Sleep well, Sorceress.” He whispered, laying back and staring at the ceiling, wishing he could fall asleep like that, but he hadn't slept well, since he last saw Yennefer on the mountain with Borch and the dragon.

– –

“Where is she?” Geralt grumbled, dropping down into a seat across from Jaskier, heavily.

“The Sorceress?” Jaskier asked, with a mouthful of breakfast.

“Yes.”

“I don't know.” Jaskier shrugged, taking another bite. “She was gone, when I woke up an hour ago.”

“Hm.” Geralt grunted, scrubbing a hand over his tired face and took the ale that Jaskier pushed in front of him.

“She's even more of a peculiar Sorceress than Yennefer.” the Bard mumbled into his mug.

“She's nothing like Yennefer.” Geralt growled, gulping down large mouthfuls of ale.

“How do you know that, Geralt? We've only just met her.”

“How do you know she's more _peculiar_ than Yen?” He countered, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“She fought a Vampire on her own, for god's sake.” Jaskier exclaimed, setting his mug down and looking Geralt in the eyes. “Yennefer wouldn't have done that, unless it attacked her first. She would have just left the town to deal with the creature on their own.”

“And, that makes her peculiar?” Geralt asked, amused by Jaskier's logic.

Jaskier shrugged, dropping the subject. “I don't know.” He frowned, looking down at his mug. “But, I trust her more than Yennefer, that's for sure.”


	2. Witcher In Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is injured from a fight with a Kikimora and gets very ill. He makes it to the nearest village and demands to know where the Healer is, but never imagines that the village Healer would be…You.

Geralt grunted in pain as he slipped off Roach, pressing a hand to his bleeding side and staggered to the door of the cottage that the villagers had pointed out to him. He was panting heavily and groaned as his shoulder slammed, painfully, against wall beside the door, he didn't have the energy or strength to raise his arms and knock, sliding down the wall and pressing his back against it, trying to catch his breath and blink away the black spots in his eyes.

“Geralt?”

The Witcher looked up, blinking hard, several times, and shook his head. “Y/n?” He panted back, face contorting in pain.

“Good lord.” You rushed over to him, setting the basket you had hanging from your arm down and knelt in front of him. “What's happened?” You asked, gently moving his arm away from his side and grimacing at the wound on his side. “Kikimora, I'm guessing.” You said, by the looks of it, and the way his body shook.

“Yes.” He growled, between clenched teeth.

“All right,” You wrapped his thick arm around your neck and helped him stand up. “into bed with you, Witcher.” You said, pushing the door open with your foot and guiding Geralt to the spare bedroom. “None of that.” You chided him, as he protested you helping him take his shirt off. “You've seen me shirtless, it's only fair that I get to see you shirtless, as well.” You told him, trying to lighten his mood. “Hey, you can't say, I didn't try.” You chuckled, seeing that it failed.

“Do you treat all your patients like this.” He rasped, gingerly resting back on the bed.

“No, they usually dying, _laughing_ , at my jokes.” You answered, pulling his boots off. “No?” You frowned at him, smiling nervously. “All right, I'll stop. I know, my humor isn't everyone cuppa.” You sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and checking his wound. “What is that?” You frowned to yourself, feeling something strange in his wound.

“What is what?” Geralt rumbled, baring his teeth as you poked around.

“There's something in your wound.” You told him, feeling the protruding object. “Did it break one of your ribs.” You half asked Geralt and half said to yourself, running your fingers along his ribcage, then shook your head. “No, you did not.” You stood up and left the room, hurrying into your study, where you kept all the things you needed for healing, picking up several different vials and instruments, before going back to Geralt. “Here, drink some of this, it will help the pain and slow the Kikimora poison.” You told him, holding a small blue, glass vial to his lips and helped him drink a bit of it.

“What is it?” He asked, as you washed away the blood, flowing and clotting, at the gash; trying to get a better look at whatever it was.

“I'm unsure.” You admitted to him. “I do apologize for this.”

“For wh—fuck!” He howled in agony as you pressed your fingers into the wound and felt around the strange and hard object.

“I think,” You said, removing your fingers. “it's part of the Kikimora's claw.” You told him, shaking your head, you'd never encountered that before. “If my best guess is right, when it swiped at you, part of its claw embedded into your fifth rib, and snapped off, afterwards.” You explained to him.

“That means,..” He panted, licking his drying lips.

“The poison will be a bit more set into your bloodstream than usual.” You nodded, agreeing with him, and mixing together several liquids together, rushed out, grabbed another vial from your study and poured in some of that, as well. “Drink all of this.” You instructed him, holding the cup to his lips. “We need to try and counteract as much of the poison, that's already in your system, as we possibly can. Luckily, with your slower heart rate, it shouldn't be too much.” You picked up a pair of forceps and snorted at the expression on the Witcher's face as he swallowed half of it, face twisting in disgust. “It's medicine, Geralt, it's not meant to taste good. It's meant to make you feel better.” You smiled, gently putting it back to his lips, and making him down the rest of it.

Setting the empty glass aside, you spread open the wound, Geralt tensed for a moment, before he relaxed again, and pushed the forceps inside, carefully fishing around until you could grab a hold of the claw and tugged, making Geralt jerk, but the claw didn't budge. Pushing the forceps deeper into wound, taking a hold of the claw closer to his rib and pressing your free hand down on his side for leverage, you twisted and yanked on it, feeling it loosen, Geralt's yell making your ears twitch, and gave it one more good and solid pull.

“Fuck!” Geralt screamed as the claw dislodged from his rib and out of his wound, with a nasty crackle and squelching sound.

“Christ, that was really in there.” You sighed, dropping the claw tip onto the bedside table and brushing hair out of your face. “You all right, Geralt?” You asked, hearing how eerily quiet he was.

“Hm.” He growled, his chest vibrating.

“I'll take that as a yes.” You chuckled, pressing a clean bandage to the still bleeding wound. “How long have you had this wound?” You asked him, pulling the bandage away and seeing a bit of puss mixed in with the blood.

“A day or two.” Geralt panted, closing his eyes as his head spun.

“Oh, well, lucky you're not dead.” You shook your head at him. “I'm going to leave it open for a little bit, let whatever puss and excess poison drain out, instead of trapping it inside and creating an abscess or worse.” You told him, cleaning up the bedside table and carrying the items back to your study. When you came back, you had a damp cloth and a cup of water. “Here, you sound parched.” You tucked a pillow under his head so he could sip the water and wiped the cool cloth across his flushed forehead and temples. “You'll be laid up for a couple of days, and that's if nothing goes wrong.”

“Fortunate, that I found you, then.” He said, sounding incredibly tired.

“Funny, how that worked out, isn't it?” You quipped, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Over a hundred miles from where we first met, three months time between that, and you just happen to stumble into my village, needing a healer.”

“Some, might call that Destiny.” Geralt whispered, cracking an eye at you.

“What do you called, Sir Witcher?” You replied, fixing your eyes on his.

“Coincidence.” He rumbled, closing his eyes again.

“Well, call it what you may, you're here now.” You told him, half covering him with the blankets, knowing he wouldn't want to be completely covered up, with the fever he was running from the poison. “If you need anything, just call.” You said, tossing another log into the little hearth in his room. “My room is just down the hall, I'll leave my door open, to hear you.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his breathing slowing. “For everything.”

“Of course.” You smiled, pausing in the doorway. “What's the point of being a healer, if you can't heal someone.”

“True.” Geralt chuckled, smirking.

“Oh, _that's_ what you laugh at.” You huffed, amused. “Witchers.” You shook your head and left him in peace.

You made you and Geralt a bit of dinner, and went off to bed. But, you didn't sleep long, your usual dream woke you in a cold sweat. Heaving a sigh and pushing your sweat damp hair out of your face, you got out of bed, padding down the hall towards the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. You paused by Geralt's door for a moment, the moonlight coming in through the open window, at the head of his bed, washed over him, his face was relaxed and his breathing was soft, telling you, he was asleep. Smiling softly, you continued on. You stood in the kitchen, staring out the window that pointed out into the garden at the side of your cottage, sipping your water and lost completely in thought. For whatever reason, you only ever had one dream, when you did dream that is. It was when you had your conduit moment, standing at the edge of a lake with your best friend, Tinn, you both enjoyed skipping rocks across its mirror-like surface, after you had finished all your chores for the day. Your family's farm wasn't far from the old battlefield of Marnadal, it was rumored to be haunted, but your father had called it utter nonsense. You had believed him, until that day, you smelled it before you saw it, but once you and Tinn saw it, it was all it took to send you both running for your lives. You had outrun Tinn, but figured he was behind you, until you heard his shriek of fear, and ground to a halt, looking over your shoulder for him. Not seeing him, you did the crazy thing, and ran back the way you had come, finding that Tinn had tripped over a loose tree root, and now had the Alghoul less than a foot away from him. Horror ad fear gripped you, as you watched the creature lean over your friend and open its nasty and cavernous mouth, your heart started to pound and clenched your hands into tight fists.

Waiting for the Alghoul to kill your best friend, right in front of you.

But, it didn't happen. The creature paused, meaty hands twisted in Tinn's shirt and a look of utter astonishment on its' face, before it's entire head exploded, spraying blood and gore all over Tinn and the ground. Tinn had barely managed to roll out of the way, before the creature's body thudded to the ground, narrowly escaping being crushed.

“Ma.”

You blinked, squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head, that wasn't part of the dream.

“Ma!”

Turning, confused, you set down your glass of water.

“No!”

“Geralt.” It dawned on you, and you rushed down to his room. “Geralt?” You called to him, finding him awake and sitting up in bed, breathing heavily. “Are you all right?” You asked, sitting at the edge of the bed and gently resting your hand on his leg.

“Fine.” He panted, wincing and holding his side. “It was just a...dream.” He said, resting back against his pillows.

“That seems to be going around.” You sighed, glancing outside the window. “Let me see.” You said, softly, watching Geralt fidget with his bandage and pulled the bloody linen away from his side. “It's not bleeding as freely as it was.” You took up one of the clean bandages from the table and redressed his wound.

“Is this where you grew up?” Geralt asked, as you started back to your own room, he wasn't quite ready to be left in the solitude of his own mind again, just yet.

You paused, but didn't turn back to him. “No.” You shook your head. “I was raised on a farm, just south of Marnadal.”

“Then, why settle here, and not back home?”

“Because,” you answered, turning back into his room and sat down in the chair beside his bed. “there's nothing left for me there, but ghosts.” you explained, looking at him softly. “the farm I grew up on, the house and barn, aren't even there anymore. They were burned down, after the more recent battle of Marnadal. Even when they were there, I didn't go back.”

“When was the last time you were there?” Geralt asked, pulling himself up a bit.

You took a small breath, held it and let it back out. “Just before my mother died, at my father's funeral.”

“Do you have other family?”

“None, that I am aware of.” You shrugged. “I was an only child, my parents never spoke about their own families and I never bothered to go looking, I wouldn't even know where to start looking.” You were quiet for a moment. “Hell, even if I do, they're all more than likely dead. Humans don't live this long.”

“How old are you?” Geralt asked, delicately.

You snorted, smirking. “I just turned a hundred and three, two weeks ago.”

“Well, happy birthday, then.” Geralt smiled at you, his eyes softening and making you blush.

“Thank you.” You whispered, dropping your eyes to your lap.

“I should let you rest.” He said, gently, watching you yawn.

“Says the patient to the healer.” You replied, stifling another yawn and getting up. “Good night, Geralt.”

“Sleep well, y/n.” He answered, listening to you move down to your room, the rustle of your blankets as you crawled into bed, and the soft sigh as you settled down and got comfortable, the steady way your breathing evened out into a soft and slow rhythm, sleep taking you.

– –

“What are you doing, you silly Witcher?” You chided Geralt as he came out of his room. “You're going to pop those stitches.”

“Luckily, I have a healer at hand to stitch me back up.” He retorted, pressing his lips together and giving you a stubborn expression.

“It's a wonder why there's so few Witchers left.” You shook your head at him. “Oh, right, it's because apparently you're incredibly stubborn about taking care of yourselves.” You scolded him, turning him back around. “No, off with you. Back to bed, before I jam my fingers in your wound again.”

“And you're scolding me for being up and risking farther injury.” Geralt quipped, letting you direct him back to bed.

“As you said, Geralt, you have a healer to stitch you back up.” You said, fluffing up his pillows as he laid back. “Now, what were you getting out of bed for?” You asked, giving his wound a once over, to make sure he didn't pop any of the stitches you had put in earlier that morning.

“Fresh air, and to stretch my legs.” He informed you, as you fussed over him.

“Simple enough.” You answered, throwing open his window. “You got to walk to the living room and back, so there. Now, you've achieved both. If you try getting up again in the next two days, I'll sew you into your blankets.” You weakly threatened him.

“You have me shaking in my socks.” He teased you, smirking smugly.

“Good.” You snapped and pointing a finger at him, before going back to what you were doing in the kitchen.

Geralt could hear you in the garden behind him, humming softly to yourself as you tended to the herbs you grew in their plots, so you had a steady supply of them for your healing responsibilities. He heard you draw a deep breath and hold it for a moment, before letting it out slowly, sounding incredibly tired, then picked up the sound of footsteps on the worn dirt path that led from your cottage to the rest of the village below. He threw his legs over the side of his bed and looked outside the window, seeing three men coming up the path, and looking none to pleased.

“Mistress.” The middle of the three men addressed you, bowing his head politely.

“Elias.” You greeted him back. “How can I help you, gentlemen?” You asked, looking at the other two.

“Mistress, this is the village official men.” Elias said, motioning to the two men. “Gentlemen, this is Mistress y/n Onora, she is the Healer for our humble village.”

“Ma'am, I am Mathayus.” one of the men bowed.

“I am Jef.” the other nodded his head.

“It was brought to our attention, by some of the other villagers, that there is a Witcher here.” Elias said, looking back to your cottage.

“There is.” You nodded, feeling a cold lump form in your throat. “He came to me severely injured, after a Kikimora attack.” You explained, keeping your face straight and your eyes guarded.

“Are you aware, my lady, of who he is?” Mathayus asked you, tilting his head and cocking a brow at you.

“I am quite aware of who, the Witcher is.” You answered, defensively, everyone knew who Geralt is, it's not like he could blend, in exactly. “I've encountered the Witcher before. He actually saved me,” you knew Geralt was listening, your own sensitive ears picking up his chuckle on the breeze. “from a Bruxa, some months ago.” You explained to the three men.

“Do you know what they call this Mutant?” Jef asked, his concern was more genuine than his counterpart's.

“The Butcher of Blaviken.” You replied, rolling your eyes, you knew all about that fabled story, and the involvement of Master Stregobor, that fucking quake excuse of a Mage. “The White Wolf, or Gwynbleidd, if you have a use for Elder Speech.” You told them, crossing your arms over your chest. “What is it, that I can help you gentlemen with, exactly?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at them, letting the sarcasm and contempt line your voice.

“We are concerned...” Mathayus started, glancing at his comrades. “that the Witcher may bring...unwanted attention to the village.”

“Unwanted.” You smirked at them. “attention?” You started laughing at the silliness of it. “What, a monster he, for some reason, didn't kill, tracking him down here and exacting revenge on him and the village that harbored him?” You threw your head back, letting your laugh ring out in the cool mountain air. “How absurd, gentlemen.” You chastised them. “That Witcher is no more a threat to you, than I am.” You leveled your gaze at them, narrowing your eyes slightly. “Are you concerned I'm a threat to the village?” You asked them, sincerely.

“No, of course not!” Elias protested, abruptly, shaking his head.

“No.” Mathayus and Jef added, together.

“You have done so much for the village, and its people, there is no way we can repay you for it, y/n.” Elias told you, in a rush of words.

“You can repay me for it, by leaving the Witcher alone.” You told him, your expression softened. “I will take responsibility for him, you have my word, he will be of no issue or trouble to anyone.” You assured them, glancing back at your cottage. “Except, maybe me.” You added, rolling your eyes as you caught a glimpse of his white hair in the window.

“Are you in danger of him, y/n?” Elias asked, following your eyes, but saw nothing.

“Absolutely not.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “If I can take on a Bruxa, by myself, I can take on the White Wolf.” You joked, but you could see the three men didn't catch your meaning. “I'll be fine with him. If he wished to harm me, I'm sure he would have done so all ready.” You elaborated for their comfort. “Is there any other concerns, my good sirs?”

“No, I believe that covers it.” Jef said, looking to his companions.

“Excellent.” You smiled at them.

Mathayus and Jef turned, walking back down the dirt road toward the village, but Elias stayed put, gazing at your cottage with a concerned expression. You had know Elias a long time, almost all of his life, to be correct. You had known his father, before he passed, some years ago. He'd become a high ranking member of the village council, and a good friend.

“Are you quite sure?” He asked, quietly, eyes never leaving the cottage.

“I am more than sure, Eli.” You smirked, patting him gently on the arm. “If I do have issue with him, I can fend for myself, or at the very least, portal myself to safety.”

“You will come to me, if it's so?” He said, taking your hands in his.

“You have my word.” You assured him, giving his hands a comforting squeeze.

Elias smiled at you, softly, but the concern didn't leave his eyes as he raised your hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles, patted them once with his own and turned to go. You watched Elias disappear around the bend and let out a hard breath, rubbing at your face and feeling very tired. So, you turned away and went back inside, finding Geralt standing in the living room, an eyebrow raised at you.

“Are you all right?” He asked, his eyes making a quick sweep of you.

“All in one peace.” You answered, tilting your head at him.

“I don't wish to cause you any trouble with your village.” Geralt told you, running a hand through his loose white hair. “I can g-”

“You're fine, Geralt.” You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “There is no trouble or issue.” You tried to assure him, rubbing your face and running a hand through your own hair. “Well, there is one issue, that's going to cause a load of trouble, if it's not remedied quickly.” You said, resting your hands on your hips and looking _him_ over.

Geralt smirked, holding his hands up and turned on his heels, taking himself back to bed. “My apologies, my lady, I meant no offense.” He said, playing along with you.

“You better be.” You chuckled, standing in his bedroom doorway. “It'll be the last time, I tell you, Witcher.”

“Or what, Sorceress?” Geralt asked, his voice husky.

“I'm sure, I could come up with something, inconvenient for you.” You returned, smirking at him and narrowed your eyes.

“I have no doubt.” He smirked back at you, settling himself in bed.

“Then, we are on common ground.” You said, winking at him and went back to your garden.


	3. Peaceful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You tend to Geralt’s wounds, prevent an angry mob from storming the house, because Geralt is there. Then, you both find something new about each other.

You had just finished lunch with Geralt, when you noticed the string of twinkling lights coming out of the treeline, in front of the cottage. “The fuckers.” You snapped, setting the plate you were washing down and strode out onto the porch. “Fuck the short mindedness of men.” You cursed, feeling the tense heat of Geralt's body behind you.

“If I had known, my presence would have been such a bother to you, I would have left sooner.” Geralt replied, touching his bandaged side, underneath his shirt.

“It's as if you are Mateo and his monster all over again.” You said out loud, more to yourself than to Geralt.

“This has happened before?” Geralt frowned down at you.

“Some years ago, there was another Mage that lived in the village,” You explained, watching the torch holding villagers come closer. “he was shady, at best. He would dig up fresh corpses from the village graveyard and piece them together, trying to reanimate them.” You told him, shaking your head. “Why he wouldn't just use the whole fresh body, instead of parts of it, is beyond me.” You cleared your throat, at how odd that sounded. “But, he managed to animate one of them, it turned on him, attacking and gravely wounding him. He came to me, to heal him, obviously.” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “The villagers, having heard of this, came up here, just like this...” You waved your hand out to the small mob of angry villagers, almost at your doorstep. “They demanded, I bring him out, or they'd do me harm.”

“What did you do?” Geralt asked, flexing and tensing his body.

“I wouldn't let them take him.” You answered, looking up at Geralt. “He had done wrong, yes. He had defiled bodies of beloved family members, and meddled in magic, he shouldn't have. But, he was wounded, near death, either way. It is my responsibility and duty as a Healer to protect and tend to those in my care, no matter what they have done. If they wanted him, once he was healthy, then I wouldn't have protested too much. But, in the end, he gave himself up, and they killed him. Burying him in the cross roads.”

“Healer!” The leader of the mob yelled, as they stopped in your yard. “We demand the Witcher.”

“And, I demand you to get off my property.” You retorted, lifting an indifferent brow at them. “So, fuck the fuck off, before you end up regretting it.”

“Why are you shielding the murderer?” A voice called out from the crowd.

“Who has he killed, Jax?” You replied, knowing the owner of the voice.

There was a hushed silence between the two groups, and you nodded your head.

“I didn't think so.” You huffed, shaking your head at them.

A rock sailed out from the tangle of bodies, and would have hit you, if Geralt's hand hadn't shot out, by reflex, catching the stone in his large palm, with ease, and inches from your face. You both exchanged looks, and it was in that moment, Geralt noticed that your eyes were a liquid silver color, making him blink at you, his arm lowering, slowly.

“Right.” You said, still looking at him, your voice strong and annoyed. “All right!” You barked, stepping off the porch and addressing the mob. “Listen up, you fucking runts.” You growled, jaw tightening. “You have come onto my property and threatened not only my guest, but you have also threatened me.” You said, looking at each and every one of their faces, making eye contact and snickering when several looked away, unable to keep your eye. “I have served this village as a healer longer than some of you have been alive, three or four of you, I actually helped birth into this world.” You hissed, looking two of the people you were sure of, in the face. “and this is how you repay me?”

“We don't like his kin-”

“I don't care, what you like, Tomas.” You snapped at the leader. “My home, my rules. If you have an issue with how I run my household and tend my land, you can come and tell me, to my face.” You challenged them, the sudden whoosh of air and thunk of metal against stone permeated in the air. Glancing down you saw the vibrating hilt of your sword, the mob took a collective step backwards. “I didn't think so.” You said, looking at them wide eyed and tilting your head. “Now, leave. Before, I have more patients to tend too.” You told them, softly.

Heads turned towards each other and there was a low murmur of voices, before the group cracked and fell apart. The villagers dispersed and wandered back to their homes. Geralt stepped up behind you, watching them go, then turned his attention back to you and your sword.

“How did you do that?” He asked, resting his index finger on the top of your sword's hilt, stilling the vibrating metal.

You looked up at Geralt and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Right.” He smirked, nodding his head. “Magic.”

“Leave it.” You told him, turning your back to the sword and going back inside.”Just leave it there, as a reminder, to anyone that wants to be brave, and try sneaking about.”

“You think, they will?” Geralt asked, standing in the kitchen as you picked up the plate you had been washing before all the commotion.

“No.” You replied, washing the dish. “Only time I'll hear from them, for a while at least, is when they need my healing capabilities.” You smiled at him. “Which is how I like it. Nice and quiet.” You dried the dishes and put them away. “That's why I picked this spot, to have the cottage built.” You explained to him, leaning back against the counter. “It's a nice and secluded spot in the mountain and woods, but still close enough for those that need me, to reach.”

“It is a very quaint spot.” Geralt nodded, looking around your homely cottage. “A very homey cottage as well, it's...” he paused and felt the next word he was about to say, deep in his chest. “peaceful.”

“Enchanting, isn't it?” You smiled, looking around the place yourself.

“Is it?” Geralt asked, looking back at you, his brow creased. “Have you enchanted it?”

“With magic?” You frowned back at him, and shook your head. “No, this isn't the work of magic, this is the work of finding what makes me happy and centered, over the years. It's pure and natural. It's what makes it feel...” You shrugged, struggling to find the right word. “ _peaceful_.” You said, giving in.

“I've never quite felt so, at home and peaceful, as I do here.” Geralt admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, that's good to know.” You smiled at him, touched. “I wouldn't want my patients feeling uncomfortable or anything, inhibits the healing process.” You heaved a sigh and fixed your eyes on him. “I'm going to lay down, you seem well enough to stay on your feet.” You told him, checking him out to be sure of your assessment. “Just don't over do it, hm? I don't need to find you face down in my herb garden.”

Geralt laughed, very softly, smiling down at you. “I promise, I will not stray.” He swore, stepping out of your way.

“That's a good Witcher.” You teased him, rubbing your forehead as your head started to throb.

You laid down in your bed, not even bothering to take your shoes off or cover up, feeling your head pound; you had used a lot of magic in the last few days, between normal daily use of it, healing Geralt and dealing with pesky villagers. It took a long while, but you finally managed to slip off into a black sleep, restless as that was.

Geralt walked out onto the porch, and took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, it was so crisp and clean, then wandered around your property, checking out your garden. He found you were growing all sorts of things; herbs like penny-royal, lavender, st. john's wort and aloe. But, also regular plants, you would find in a garden, plenty of flowers, like daffodils, roses, that climbed the trellis just outside your kitchen window, honeysuckles and dragon's breath, which Geralt hadn't seen in a very long time. He found a small stone bench in the heart of the garden and a little fountain in front of it, the vibration of his medallion told Geralt that the water flowing from the fountain was done with magic. Geralt took a deep breath, his shoulders drawing up and his enhanced sense of smell picking up the sweet and fragrant flowers, the sharp and bitter scent of herbs, and the earthy smell of vegetables, before letting the breath out with a soft and content hm, his eyes falling closed. Enjoying the peace of the garden a little while longer, Geralt stood and checked on Roach, who was grazing on the tall grass and wild flowers out front of the cottage, then went back inside and noticed you were still asleep, so he stayed as quiet as he could.

With dinner nearing and you still asleep, Geralt poked around your kitchen and pantry, but noticed you were running rather low on items. Pressing his lips together and tapping his foot, Geralt went back to his room, pulling his dagger out of his saddlebags and went out into the surrounding forest. A little while later, he came out of the treeline, a large buck draped over his shoulder and dropped it on the pouch, before going around to your garden, helping himself to some of the carrots, onions and peas you had growing. Geralt grabbed your cast iron cauldron, filled it with fresh well water and set it on the kitchen counter, washing his bloody dagger, he used it to chop up the onions and carrots, dropping them in the cauldron, and then shelled the peas in a separate wooden bowl, for later. He went back out onto the porch and started skinning and cutting up the deer, what he wouldn't use for dinner, he stored in your meat shed, and tossed the deer meat he was using, into the pot, set it on the hook and over the fire to stew. When you still weren't awake an hour later and the stew was done, Geralt went down to your room and stood there at your half closed door, debating whether he should wake you or not. But, decided against it, if you had slept this long, then apparently you needed it, and he didn't want to ruin it for you. So, he ate his fill of the stew and pulled it off the fire enough, that it would stay warm for you, when you finally did wake up.

Geralt had laid down, but hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep, until the sudden scent of Sunflowers entered his senses and he jerked, groaning as he strained his stitches. He took a breath and it got stronger, getting out of bed, he followed it, down to your room. He pushed your bedroom door open and found you having a bad dream. Frowning, Geralt stepped into your room and gently rested his hand on your shoulder, shaking you carefully, trying not to startle you awake. He could hear the rapid pound of your heart, like a drum in his ears.

“Y/n?” He whispered your name, but you only seemed become more agitated. “Y/n.” He called your name again and sat down on your bed, the frown between his brows deepening. “Y/n, wake up.”

You jerked up, like shot, laboring to breathe, eyes wide with fear and distant. “Get off me!” You barked, feeling Geralt's thick arm wrap around your waist, increasing your panic.

“It's all right, y/n. It's me, Geralt.” Geralt whispered in your ear, pulling you closer to him. “It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you, you're safe with me.” He told you, cupping the side of your face and laying your head down on his shoulder, turning his face into the back of your hair and rocking lightly. “It's all right.”

“Geralt?” You panted, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah.” He sighed, pressing his cheek to your hair and felt you slump against him, one of your hands gripping his upper arm. “You're all right, I've got you.” He assured you, hearing your hiccup and hitched breath, the drip of your tears on his skin. “You have nightmares often?” He asked, rocking a little bit more.

“No-I..” You paused, frowning against his shoulder and let out a breath. “I didn't think, I did. I don't remember dreaming at all.”

Geralt nodded, his thumb caressing your cheek and ear. “It's not uncommon.” He assured you, listening to your heart slow as you started calming down. “Not all together a bad thing either, you don't always want to remember a nightmare, when you wake.”

“True, also slightly annoying.” You agreed, pulling away from him. “I'm sorry, if whatever noise I was making woke you.”

“Actually,” Geralt frowned, looking you in the eyes. “You weren't making a sound, it was...” he took a deep breath; yes, that was the scent that had woken him up. “It was your scent, that woke me up. It just came over me, waking me and it led me to you, like you called out to me.” He blinked, confused by it.

“That's weird.” You frowned at him, just as confused. “The only time a person can smell a Mage is, when we've taking some sort of hold on them. But, I haven't.” You leaned toward him, taking a soft breath. “Hm, you smell like--”

“Sweat, horse, blood and death.” He nodded, and sounding methodical. “So, I've been told.” He said, narrowing his eyes at you

“No.” You said, quietly, and shook your head. “Well, yes.” You chuckled, looking at him. “But, that's not what I mean, or what I smell.”

“What _do_ you smell, then.” He asked, suddenly curious, everyone Geralt had ever met, at some point, pointed out that he smelled either like Roach, sweat, blood from things he's killed, or death, if not all the above.

“You smell like,” You took a deeper breath, licking your lips and closed your eyes, focusing on it. “Warm grass, fresh air and-” Your head tilted, with amused confusion, and smirked, opened your eyes to look at him again. “Chamomile.” Your amusement grew seeing the light reddening of his pale cheeks. “An odd scent for a Witcher.”

“No one, has ever told me, I smell like that.” He confessed, feeling a bit shy and caught off-guard.

You shrugged, smiling at him. “Maybe, they never stopped to smell.”

“Or, cared to notice.” He added, tilting his head at you.

“Caring is something I do.” You told him, brushing your hair out of your face. “You can't be a healer, without caring.” You said, abruptly aware of his scent, then his lips.

You took a sharp breath through your nose and pushed in against him, resting your hands on his broad shoulders and parting your lips as you felt the tip of his tongue brush along your bottom lip. Geralt's hands smoothed down your sides, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him, slipping a bit of his tongue into your mouth, tasting you and flicking his tongue at yours, moaning as you responded back and moaned as well. It was a delicate and satisfied dance. Geralt nip at your bottom lip and pull away from you, smiling faintly. You smirked back at him, feeling your body tingle, and leaned in to kiss him again, wrapping your arms around his neck. Geralt's hands moved to your thighs and picked you up, laying you down on the bed properly and moved over you, never breaking the kiss as he did. Your hands went to the buttons of his pants, slipping your fingers into the band and pushed them off his hips, nails grazing the skin of his ass. Kissing and biting at your neck, Geralt pushed up your skirt and made you gasp as his hand glided up your inner thigh to your pussy.

“Hm.” He hummed against your mouth and smirked smugly, his fingers finding you soaking wet.

You chuckled back, dipping your hand between your bodies and easily locating his cock, what a nice cock it is too. Feeling how warm and hard it grew in the palm of your hand, stroking it lightly and caressing the silky vein that throb against the pad of your thumb, gasping as you felt one of Geralt's thick fingers slip inside your core. Geralt took advantage of your open mouth, devouring it again, as he worked his finger, driving you wild with the light touches of his thumb to your clit, making you twitch and pant. He grinned, feeling you push down against his digit, and inserted another; he didn't need to finger you, you were beyond ready for his cock, but he was enjoy the chaos it was stirring up in you. Curving his fingers into your sweet spot and firmly rubbing your clit, bringing you to the very edge between your plateau and orgasm, listening to the erratic beat of your heart as it built, then slipped his fingers free. You whined and gripped at his biceps, nails digging into his skin. Laughing and grabbing you by the thighs, Geralt yanking you down to him, sitting back on his heels, he rested your bare ass on his thighs, gently rubbing his cock against your dripping pussy.

“Uh, Geralt.” You moaned as he pushed inside of you, the snugness of his cock gliding against your overstimulated walls almost had you coming, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezed, sheathing his cock fully inside of you.

He moaned as all of your heat hugged his cock, he took a sharp breath and frowned, making you frown up at him.

“What is it?” You asked, your voice uneven and breathy.

“Sunflowers and-” He sniffed again, eyes closed and tilted his head, leaning down to you, your loud moan sounding in the room, muffled as you bit your lips. His face nuzzled your throat and took a slow, deep breath. “Cedarwood.” You whispered, lips brushing along your throat and the edge of your jaw. “That's what you smell like.” He told you, wrapping an arm around your waist, hugging you flat against him, and rested on an elbow, close to your head, his face a fraction of an inch above yours.

You chuckled up at him, smirking and feeling an oddness bubble in your stomach, tipping your head up that fraction of an inch, you captured his lips and closed your walls even tighter around his cock, making him groan. The first thrust was firm, pushing the head of his cock deeper into you, hitting something that made you break the kiss with a loud cry, your cervix. Satisfied with that, Geralt started full cock thrusts into you, pulling all the way out and driving himself back in, hitting that deep target every time, strong and harder. The headboard pounding against the wall, the bed groaning in protest by the assault.

“Fuck.” Geralt growled with clenched teeth, lifting his body some to see his cock diving into your core and the way your stomach danced, when he hit your cervix again, and again.

“Fuck!” You echoed back, gasping with passionate surprise as the bubble in your stomach, popped. “Geralt.” You gulped, almost choking, your legs shook and your nails dug into the skin of his arms, raking down his sides and gripping his hips, wanting him even deeper into you.

Geralt grabbed a hold of your hips and held you firmly down on his thighs, biting his lip in determination, and using a lot of his strength the plow into you. Your head threw back, your body shook, a muted cry came from your mouth, and you clenched so hard around Geralt's pounding cock, you slowed his pace and forced him to come with you, hot ribbons of milky release mixed with your come. You let out a soft sigh, but didn't relax or move, the orgasm still gripping you, and making you feel like you were light and heavy at the same time, tingly, cold and hot all at once. Your brain had short circuited and blown all the fuses, you had been alive for a _very_ long time, and yet, you _never_ felt, or had, an orgasm, like _that_ before. There was a wet sound as Geralt pulled out of you, pressing his lips to your chest as he let you lay back down on the bed, then kissed the corner of your mouth, laying down on his side next to you, just as spent and deeply content.

He felt...peaceful, as he fell asleep, a smile on his face.


	4. Near and Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Geralt bathe in the moonlight, only for Geralt to wake the next morning to you, gone. He travels near and far to find you, and it leads him somewhere in the Continent he’s ever been before, hoping to find you there, safe.

You lifted your heavy hand and wiped at your sweaty face, feeling something wet and sticky on it. Blinking and looking at your hand, you saw the blood, and all your senses come crashing back into you, jerking up. “Fuck.” You panted, seeing popped stitches on Geralt's side, blood smeared all over his side, back and stomach, with bloody fingerprints on his ass. You looked down at yourself and saw the blood smeared all over your dress as well.

“What's the...matter?” Geralt's sleepy voice asked, beside you.

“We're bloody.” You told him, simply. “Amongst other things.” You laughed, rolling out of bed and onto your weak legs.

Geralt shot up on an elbow, his face startled and his gold eyes glowing with fear. “Have I hurt you?” He asked, seeing the blood smeared on your dress.

“No.” You smiled, shaking your head and meeting his worried eyes. “It's I that has hurt you.” You explained, letting your soiled dress slip down your body, and then stepped closer to him again. “I scratched your side and ripped out a couple of your stitches.” You touched the blood clotted wound. “And your-” You coughed, blushing. “uh, _force_ , didn't help them, either.”

“Hm.” He grunted, relaxing and closing eyes again. “I didn't even feel it.”

“No?” You grinned, lifting a brow at him.

“No, not in the slightest.” He chuckled, licking his lips. “I was busy feeling, other things.” He assured you, amused.

“Well, that's good.” You laughed, pulling your hair free of its tie, then turning for the door.

“Where are you going?” He asked, opening an eye at you.

“As much as I _love_ having your come, running down my legs,” You told him, turning your upper body towards him as you opened the bedroom door. “I can't walk around like this all day.” You informed him.

“And why not?” He countered, amused, opening his other eye, and seeing his come was indeed running down your legs.

“I might have other patients show up, and they already think I'm some mad and crazy witch.” You laughed, shaking your head at the decades old slur. “I think, greeting a man that's been mauled by a bear, naked and covered in bloody and come, would send the wrong message, as to what _kind_ of healer I am.” You lifted your brows at him. “So, I'm going to bathe.”

“Bathe, where?” Geralt asked, sitting up in your bed.

“Come, find out.” You beckoned him and disappeared down the hallway.

Smirking, Geralt got out of bed, shedding his clothing along the way, as he followed you out of the house, through the tall grass and into the forest. You walked for a minute or two, before coming out into a clearing where a river was, with a large earth made river pool and a gently flowing waterfall. You looked back at Geralt as he came into the clearing and smiled, before diving into the water, disappearing underneath and popping up a moment later, near the waterfall.

“What's wrong, Geralt?” You called out to him, seeing him standing at the edge of the water. “Can't swim?” You teased him, giggling.

“Hm.” Geralt snorted, smirking and joined you.

“So, he can swim.” You laughed, playfully splashing him.

“You don't live this long, and not learn how to swim.” He replied, splashing you back.

“Oh, I've met people older than me, that still can't swim.” You said, laying back and slowly swimming towards the waterfall. “Stregobor, being one of them.”

“And how do you know that?” Geralt asked, following after you.

“I heard a story, from a _very_ , reliable source.” You told him, turning over onto your belly and swam through the waterfall to a small cavern and pulled yourself up onto a shelf. “That he had been trying some experiment, involving water, and accidentally portalled himself into a lake. One of his minions had to dive in and save him, because he couldn't keep his head above the surface.” You laughed, voice echoing.

“Wish I had known that, when I dealt with him.” Geralt commented, amused.

“Well, now you know, if you ever have to deal with him again.” You told him, picking up a bit of soap and a small sponge, that was on a rock beside you.

You soaped up the sponge, washing your body and hair, before dipping back into the water to rinse off. Geralt did the same, and you both swam back to shore, then returned to your cottage. You warmed up some of the stew Geralt had made and returned to bed, allowing Geralt to come back with you, even with his _pitiful_ excuse of wanting to make sure you didn't have another nightmare, true as the concern was.

– –

Geralt woke the next morning, alone, in a quiet house. Which was incredibly strange, in the few days he'd stayed with you, the house always seemed alive. Getting out of bed, he pulled on his clothing and stepped out into the hall. You weren't anywhere in the house or the property, he could see that, he could also feel the energy you always charged the air with, was absent, which also told the Witcher, you had been gone for a while.

“Hey, Witcher!” A man barked, as Geralt turned to go back inside. “Fetch the Healer.” the Man demanded, stopping short of the porch. “My son has injured himself on our farm.” He explained, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Geralt with unguarded disgust and mistrust.

“The Healer is not here.” Geralt growled in reply.

“What do you mean, _not here_?” the Farmer huffed, looking surprised.

“Just _that_.” Geralt grunted, crossing his arms. “She's not here, you are welcome to look, if you don't believe me.”

The Farmer's arms dropped to his side, hands clenched into fists. “What have you done with her?” He demanded of Geralt, incredulous.

“I've done nothing with her.” Geralt replied, frowning, not about to tell the Farmer about the sex you two had, not like it would help matters. “She wasn't here, when I woke this morning. I figured, she was tending to someone in your village.” He explained, a growing feeling of unease at the Farmer's expression and body language.

“She isn't in the village.” He informed Geralt, shaking his head. “I checked there first, before coming here.”

Geralt's head snapped up and his eyes scanned the property in front of them. “Fuck.” He groaned, the unease gripping his stomach. “Do you have any clue, where she might have disappeared too?” He asked the Farmer.

“No.” The Farmer replied, frowning hard. “I do know, that if she was planning to travel a far enough distance, she would go and tell our alderman, Elias. That way Elias's wife, Ifra, would know to expect whatever patients that might need healing, while y/n was away.”

“Where does your alderman live?” Geralt demanded, becoming impatient.

“He lives in the largest house, our village has.” He told Geralt.

Geralt went back inside the cottage, grabbing his boots and sword, before going back out, closing the door, and following the Farmer down the road to the alderman's house. Elias was surprised to see the two men at his door, but ushered them inside, none-the-less.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” He asked, taking a seat behind his desk.

“The Farmer here,” Geralt spoke up, motioning to the Farmer with a tilt of his head. “came to y/n's cottage, looking for help to heal his son.”

“All right, what does that have to do with you both being here?” Elias frowned, not understanding.

“She's not at the cottage.” The Witcher informed him. “and from my best guess, hasn't been in several hours. I was curious, if she's come to you about needing to travel somewhere.”

“No,” Elias shook his head, concerned. “She hasn't. I haven't seen her since we visited the cottage that day.”

“Do you know where she would go, on such short and abrupt notice?” Geralt asked, that feeling in his stomach becoming heavier, he wouldn't forgive himself, if something was to happen to you because of his presence.

“No.” Elias answered, rubbing the side of his face. “She has no family, that I am aware of. There's not another village or settlement for almost a fifty miles, and they have three of their own healers. So, I don't see why they would travel so far for her.” He said, head starting to throb. “This is completely unlike her, and I haven't a clue where she could have gone, or why.” He laughed, nervously. “She's a Sorceress, for god's sake! She can portal herself anywhere she likes, on a whim or fancy.”

“True, but still unlike her, as you said.” Geralt grumbled, agitated.

“Elmis, your boy, Sulin, is injured?” Elias asked the Farmer, just recalling Geralt mentioning it.

“He is, sir.” Elmis nodded.

Elias heaved a sigh. “I'll have Ifra go with you back to the farm, and care for him.” He said, getting up. “Witcher, if I hear anything of y/n, I will send word to you.” He promised Geralt.

“Don't worry about it.” Geralt answered, pressing his lips together. “I'll look for her, myself.”

“How?” Elias asked, skeptical.

“She's a Sorceress.” Geralt told him, stepping outside. “If anyone knows how to find a Sorceress, it would be the people of Aretuza.” He said, turning away and heading back up to your cottage.

Geralt saddled Roach and made sure your cottage was secured, before mounting the bay and heading off in the direction of Aretuza, in Temeria. It was a four day ride from where you lived to the magical academy, he had gone to the academy hoping that Tissaia would be there to help him look for you, knowing that, with your age, you would have been among the first students Tissaia would have had as a Rectoress.

“Geralt?” Triss Merigold's voice echoed in the stone hallway. “What are you doing here?” she asked, catching up with the Witcher.

“I'm looking for Tissaia.” Geralt answered, turning towards her. “In turn, looking for someone else.” He told her, then paused, taking a sharp breath as a strong and familiar struck him. He turned and a moment later saw the owner of the scent. “Yennefer.”

“Geralt.” Yennefer greeted him back. “Come to wreck the lives of more Mages?” She asked him, eyeing him, rudely.

“No.” Geralt growled back, narrowing his eyes at her. “I've come to talk to Tissaia.”

“What do you need from the Rectoress?” Yennefer demanded of him.

“He's looking for someone.” Triss chimed in, eyes still on Geralt.

Geralt shot her a sideways glance and let out a hard breath, feeling the awkwardness of previous lovers. “Is she in?” He rumbled, not in the mood for cat fights.

“She is.” Triss nodded. “She's in her office.” She motioned to the stairs that led up to Tissaia's office, two floors above.

“Thank you.” He said, shortly and moved that way.

“Who is it, you're looking for, that requires Tissaia de Vries?” Yennefer asked, following after him. “Another scorned lover, Geralt? Couldn't satisfy her, so she ran away, and now you're looking to meddle with her life and freedom.”

Geralt came to a sharp halt in the hallway to Tissaia's office and snapped around to face Yennefer. “No.” He growled in a low voice, lip twitching with a snarl.

“Ah, but still a lover.” She quipped, seeing it in his eyes.

“I'm not in the mood, Yen.” He huffed, turning back towards Tissaia's office and knocked.

“Witcher?” Tissaia frowned, she'd only met Geralt once before, outside of Aretuza. “How might I be of assistance?” She asked, stepping out of his way and allowing him inside, narrowing her eyes at Yennefer as she entered, close behind.

“I'm in need of assistance in finding one of your former students.” He told her, looking angrily at Yennefer.

“Which student would that be?” Tissaia asked, taking a seat behind her desk.

“She would have been one of your first students.” Geralt explained, focusing on the Rectoress and ignoring Yennefer's presence. “as Rectoress.”

“That's any of twelve girls, Witcher.”

“I am aware.” Geralt replied, resting his hand on the back of the chair in front of him. “Her name is y/n Onora.”

“Y/n.” Tissaia smiled, remembering you vividly. “She was one of my greatest students. She is one of my only students with the innate ability for both healing magic and battle magic, especially battle magic. She's used her abilities for healing mostly in the last six decades, in Redania. Have you looked for her there?”

“That is where I've come from.” Geralt told her, lifting an eyebrow at her. “I was injured in a Kikimora attack, and she tended to my wounds. I woke three days ago, and found her gone. Checking her village, I learned she hadn't been there in some time, and it is unlike her to leave without informing their alderman, so, his wife could tend to what patients y/n would ordinarily have.”

“That is rather strange.” Tissaia frowned, concerned herself, the two of you hadn't seen each other in over a year, but, did keep in regular contact through letters. “She hasn't mentioned anything in her last letter to me, two weeks ago. She would usually discuss anything of a serious nature with me, the only thing her last letter mentioned was of a small settlement in Kovir, that was having some sort of magical issue.”

“Magical issue, what kind of Magical issue?” Yennefer frowned, narrowing her eyes at Tissaia. “and, what help would she be with something like that?”

“Her magic knowledge almost rivals that of Stregobor's.” Tissaia replied. “Not that that's incredibly impossible. But, Stregobor is over four hundred years old, y/n is only a fraction of that, in age. So, for her expansive knowledge of Magic to be a close rival of his, is incredible.” She explained to them, pulling open a drawer in her desk and removing your last letter. “She says that, there were strange happenings in the village, of some magical nature, with an element of some type of creature. She's traveled to the village several times over the last year and a half, but has yet been able to identify the nature of either. Neither are of the kind of magic or creature she's heard of, dealt with or can find in extensive reading.” She summed up what you wrote. “She spent nearly a week here, in Aretuza's library, reading nearly every book we have that could possibly be a connection, as well as, discussing it with Stregobor and scouring his library. Again, coming up with nothing.”

“Do you think this is where she could have gone?” Geralt asked, his interest and instincts peaking.

“Without saying?” Tissaia frowned up at him. “She's always informed her alderman of her leaving the village, as you've said yourself. Why wouldn't she do it this time around?”

“Or, not tell you of her departure.” Yennefer added in, curious herself.

“Especially, if you were under her care because of the Kikimora attack.” Tissaia agreed, shaking her head. “She would not have left you, until she was completely sure you were well enough to no longer need her, and judging by the bit of blood seeping through your shirt, you are not.” She said, pointing it out to him.

“I'm fine.” Geralt grunted, touching his hand to it. “The wound was distressed the night before she left, and some on the journey here. It's closed over now.” He assured them. “Is there a way you can track her?” He asked, tilting his head.

“There is, yes.” Tissaia nodded, sighing, and rubbed a finger between her brows. “The Font of Aretuza, can be used to locate Mages. We all have our own, unique, magical footprint, if you will.” She explained, getting up. “If they've ascended, then through the Font, they can be located, and y/n has most definitely ascended.” She said, pulling open the door of her office and walked out, leaving Geralt and Yennefer to follow after her.

The three went down to the Font of Aretuza, deep in the the academy's bowels. Tissaia stood at the edge of the stone platform of the Font, holding her closed hands out and closing her eyes, focusing.

“Mir'me me daerienn sor'ca y/n.” She whispered the spell.

_Show me my sister, y/n._

Tissaia took a sharp breath, her body tensing for a moment before opening her hands and relaxed, eyes opening again. “She is in Kovir.” She said to Geralt, turning around to face him as he stood by the entrance. “She, also, may or may not be, in trouble.” She added, a deep crease on her brow.

“Do you know _where_ in Kovir, she is?” Geralt asked, tensing.

“No.” She shook her head. “That wasn't attainable, but her letter said a small settlement, in Kovir, by the river, Toina.”

“That's in the principality of Narok.” Geralt said, his mind racing over all of the villages he knew in the area. “The only place that would make sense, is Midmaw, in the Valley.” He whispered to himself.

“It would make sense.” Tissaia agreed, thinking the same. “It is rather cut off from the rest of the area. The black sheep of the principality.”

“Then, I'll go there.” Geralt said, turning on his heels.

“Geralt!” Yennefer yelled, running after him. “Geralt.” She sighed, grabbing the back of his elbow.

“What, Yen?” He growled, his impatience starting to show.

“Why is she so important?” She asked him. “She can fend for herself, you heard Tissaia. She's quite adept in magic. Why are you running after her?”

Geralt had been asking himself that question since he found you gone, and still hadn't found the answer to it, he hoped once he had found you, it would become clear to him. “I don't know.” He admitted, sighing. “All I know, is that I need too.” He told her, quietly. “That...she _needs_ me, and _I_ need her.” With that, Geralt turned and walked away from Yennefer. He didn't look back at Aretuza as he rode away, the scent of Lilac and Gooseberries growing fainter around him and in his mind, the farther he went.

The journey to Midmaw was full of worry and concern of what he would find, when he got there. Would he get there and find you had already gone, returning back home. What if he got there and found out whatever it was you were investigating had killed, or maimed, you. If Tissaia was wrong about where you really were, or was trying to mislead him for some reason. No, the Rectoress wouldn't lie to him about something like this. He'd seen the worry in her face and heard it in her voice, Tissaia was just as concerned about what was going on with you, as Geralt was himself. He was sure he would find you, one way or another.

– –

It took a week, but he made it to the Village of Midmaw, adeptly named, since it was in a valley below the Dragon Mountains, like it was in the maw of a Dragon's mouth. The only settlement brave enough to be this close to the mountain range, since it was heavily infested with Dragons, which it them their name. He crossed the long, stone bridge over the Toina river and into the village, he felt the oddness of it. Geralt had never been this far north, in the Continent before, only going as far as Pont Vanis or Lan Exeter, before turning around again. But, the feeling he had as he rode down the main road of the village, wasn't the newness of his arrival or the strange looks he received, it was something else entirely.

That feeling alone, told Geralt he was in the right place.


	5. Midmaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt makes it to Midmaw, in search of you. What he finds isn’t what was expected, for either of you.

Geralt dismounted off Roach, out front of a shabby inn, the village was bleak and filthy, the all dark timber buildings stood crooked and dilapidated on their muddy foundations, looking as if they were going to collapse at any moment, with a stiff breeze or good enough push of the hand. With a quick sniff of the place, it smelled even worse, than it looked. The people weren't in any better condition as they slowly walked by him, giving him strange and shady glances as he tied Roach to the inn's hitching post. Returning one man's particularly nasty gaze, Geralt went inside the inn, even almost empty, people stopped in their drinking and conversation to turn and stare at him, but, Geralt was use to it, and paid it no mind, as he walked up to the bar.

“What can I do for you, outsider?” the Innkeeper asked, giving Geralt the once over.

“I'm looking for someone.” Geralt growled, narrowing his eyes.

“And who might that be?” the Innkeeper growled back.

“A Mage, Sorceress.” He told him, pressing his palms flat on the rough and sticky bar top.

“Silver eyes?” the Innkeeper inquired, lifting his brow at Geralt.

“That's her.” Geralt nodded, the knot in his stomach easing some.

“She left, early this morning.” he told him, taking an empty tankard from a local patron and turning his back to Geralt to fill the mug from the ale barrel, before giving it back to the person.

“Is she coming back?” Geralt asked, the knot tightening a fraction.

“She should be.” the Innkeeper answered, crossing his arms. “She paid another week for her room, last night, and the only thing she took with her, this morning, was her sword. What a Mage needs with a sword is beyond me.”

“It's her predilection.” Geralt stated, rolling his eyes. “Do you know, or did she say, where she was going?” He asked, feeling that impatient crawl of his skin to go find her.

“Midmaw Catacombs, she's been visiting them every day, from morning til night, since she arrived.” the Innkeeper huffed, shaking his head. “The crazy bit-”

Geralt's hand shot out, grabbing the back of the Innkeeper's head and slammed his face down onto the bar, holding it there as the man struggled, and several patrons froze. “Watch your mouth.” Geralt growled into his ear, before roughly letting him go. “Where are the catacombs?” he demanded as the Innkeeper pressed his soiled apron to his broken and bloody nose.

“Two miles East, of the last North building.” He answered, nasally.

“Wasn't so hard, was it?” Geralt snapped, dropping a coin on the bloody bar top and walked out.

Geralt wound his way through the buildings of the village, finding the last Northern one and turned East. He hadn't gone far, when he caught the lingering scent of Sunflowers and Cedarwood, it was still faintly warm, telling Geralt that you were still in the area. He felt the knot in his stomach completely release as he found the sunken entrance of the catacombs. The thick wooden door was propped open by a brick, and Geralt could smell the dusty, stale and deathly odor coming from inside as he pulled the door open and leaned inside. Several feet in front of the entrance, the catacombs forked in three directions, straight, left and right, burning torches lining the walls between the inlaid graves. Standing in the cross of the passageways, Geralt took a deep sniff of each way, picking up your scent stronger to the left passage, and decided to follow it. He grew more and more confident in his choice and felt more at ease, knowing that at any moment, he'd see you again. The pathway ended in a large, vaulted room, more graves lined the walls and several caskets situated in the center of the room, for more prominent dead. There was a doorway in the middle of the right wall, and another up a set of wooden stairs. He stepped farther inside to decided which way to take, when you appeared out of the door to the right.

“Y/n.” He called to you, smiling out of pure relief to see you, fine and unmarred, if not a bit dusty and muddy.

“Geralt?” You frowned, turning your head at his voice and blinked at him. “What are you doing here?” You asked him, shocked to see him. “Why aren't you resting?” You scolded him.

Geralt laughed at your worry. “I'm fine, y/n. I'm healed by now.” He assured you, moving closer. “Why are you here?” He asked, glancing around the room more properly.

You sighed, rubbing your face. “There's something here.” You told him, shivering at the mention of it, whatever _it_ is.

“What?” He asked, looking back at you, raising a concerned brow.

“I have no idea.” You answered, shaking your head. “I've been trying to figure that out for some time now.” You explained. “Whatever it is, it's killing people. Never the same way or at the same time, or the same type of victim. It has no rhythm or pattern to its madness.”

“Has it killed since you've been here?”

“No,” You shook your head again, even more frustrated. “It never kills, when I'm here. It kills before I arrive and after. Like, it senses me. I was curious to know, if it didn't when a Mage was in town, being that Midmaw has no Mage, or even an official alderman.” You described to him. “So, I had an associate of mine, another Mage, Atlas, come to check the theory. He came unannounced and bearing nothing to identify himself as a Mage.”

“Did it work?” Geralt asked, his interest peaked.

“For a while, yes.” You nodded, licking your lips. “While he was here, there were no attacks, and I figured, whatever it was feared that killing would reveal whatever it was, to something that could contend with. Until, the night before he was due to return to home, back in Ebbing. In the early morning hours, the creature struck again.”

“Did Atlas figure out what it was?” He inquired. “That's why you came on such short notice?”

“Yes and no.” You sighed, rolling your neck, your shoulders and back sore and tight. “Atlas did find out what the creature is, but finding out what it is, isn't why I came so shortly.”

“What was it, then?” Geralt frowned, not understanding.

“Atlas, was the person the creature killed.” You told him, bluntly, leveling your eyes at his. “Here, in the catacombs. The Keeper of the Catacombs, who quit after finding Atlas's body, several hours later. He had opened the Catacombs for Atlas, after Atlas found out from the Keeper, that the fresh corpses here were disappearing, bones and all. I'm guessing, Atlas took that as a clue for the creature, and asked the Keeper to allow him to investigate. He investigated twice, once during the day and once at night, the night he died.”

“You think, this creature is coming for the fresher bodies, to substitute the people its been killing in the village?” Geralt asked, letting his senses and body go on alert to the surroundings. “Since you, and Atlas, were there. Preventing its attacks.”

“It's my greatest guess.” You sighed again, nodding your head and brushing your hair out of your face. “I suppose, Atlas was mapping out the Catacombs, which there are three, well _four_ , levels too. The fourth was caved in by a quake, a number of years ago; and either interrupted the creature's meal, or it had run into him, on its way to find a new meal, since the newer bodies are buried in the lower levels.”

“How low have you been?” Geralt asked, concerned.

“I've been to the collapsed fourth level.” You admitted to him. “Atlas was killed in the hallway that leads to it.”

“Fuck, y/n.” He sighed, agitated by the news.

“I have to find it, Geralt.” You told him, blinking at him.

“Why?” He snapped.

“It's killing people!” You snapped back at him. “It killed my friend! Who I sent here, if I hadn't he'd still be alive.”

“He knew what he got himself into.”

“No, he did not.” You growled, exasperated. “I'd been in this village six times, before I asked him to come. _Six_ , Geralt, and _no one_ dead on those times. I stayed a total of eight weeks, in those times. No one died, or came to any harm. I send him here, and he dies on the last day! He managed to make a connection, I didn't, and it got him killed. That's my fault.”

“How is that _your_ fault, y/n?” Geralt demanded, pacing to try and calm himself. “You didn't know, he would die.”

“I should have,..estimated it!” You huffed, your throat tightening. “I should have told him, if he made any finds, to come to me with them, not go looking himself. I failed at that, and him.” You panted, trying to gulp away the tightness in your throat, and only succeeding in making yourself more worked up.

Geralt stopped, seeing your face. “Y/n.” He whispered, cupping your face in his rough hands. “This is not your fault. We both know, if you knew he was in any danger, at any point, you would have made him leave. It was a misfortune, nothing more.” He told you, gently, his thumbs wiping at your unshed tears. “We _both_ know this.” He added, even softer.

“I do.” You choked and hiccuped. “But, I have to find this creature, Geralt.”

“Why?” He begged you, shoulders slumping.

“Tankred Thyssen has bid me too.” You replied, dropping your eyes to the dirt floor.

“ _Bid_ you too?” Geralt frowned, shaking his head. “How can he bid you too? You're not bound to him, or his kingdom.”

“I would have been, Kovir was the kingdom, I was meant to go to court for.” You explained to him, carefully stepping away from him. “He is..” You licked your lips. “He's also my _former_ in-law.” You gulped, feeling the burning cut in your heart, that you'd been trying to heal for years.

“You're what?” He snapped, mouth falling open.

“I _married_ Eudoxia Thyssen's son, Eren. Eudoxia was Tankred's aunt.” You explained to him, leaning back against the coffin behind you.

“You're married!” Geralt growled, feeling like a complete fool.

“ _Was_.” You emphasized. “Eren died, of wounds I could not heal, as hard has I tried too.” You murmured, your heart heavy. “Though, I am no longer married, legally or otherwise, with his death, or bound to Kovir, I still have that connection. Tankred is desperate to find out why the people of Midmaw are being targeted, he fears that if it isn't resolved, there will be an uprising against the Thyssen Throne, like Nilfgaard. So, he sent for me, bidding me, more like _begging_ me, to find out.”

“Your dead _husband_ 's cousin, King of Kovir and Poviss, sent for you, to discover the creature attacking this middle of nowhere village. Why not use his own Mage?” Geralt demanded, still feeling rather silly.

“He doesn't trust him.” You told him, simply. “I can't say I blame him either. Itho is rather _dense_.” You chuckled, thinking of the Mage.

“You're no longer married?” He asked, wanting clarity.

“Death, puts an end to it, Geralt.” You assured him, softly. “He's being dead for some years, and is buried in the Royal Kovir Cemetery in Lan Exeter.” Your head tilted as you said it. “Why does this bother you? That I _was_ once married.”

Geralt huffed and turned away from you, putting his eyes anywhere, but on you, and it struck you straight in your already sore chest and heart.

“You're...” You let out a breath, smiling. “in love with me.” You saw Geralt's shoulders stiffen. “You are.” You said, even softer. “We sleep together once, and you've fallen for me.”

“I fell in love with you, the moment I saw you!” Geralt snapped, swinging back around to face you, but he wasn't angry, it was raw emotion that you heard and saw, his love for you clearer to you, than his face. “I stood there, that day, in the forest, watching you fight that Bruxa _alone_ , like a fool. I couldn't move, or speak. All I could do was stand there, thinking; this stupid woman, is going to get herself killed, if I don't help her, and I _still_ couldn't anything, but watch and think, at any moment, you were done for. But, to my _utter_ surprise, you managed to fell it, you didn't kill it entirely, but you had completely bested it, on your own, with very little Magic. I've never seen full grown men, three times your size, kill or best a Bruxa like that, I can barely do better, and I'm trained for.” He confessed to you, his hands clenched in fists, as he tried to control the flow of emotions pumping through him. “The way you sassed me, after I finished that Bruxa off...”

“and you did.” You smirked, giving him the credit.

“The way you had your fill of ale and food, before dragging yourself upstairs to the inn room to nurse yourself, impressed me. But, even I knew, you'd need help closing up a wound like that.”

“You came up on purpose.” You laughed, throwing your head back. “Scheming the whole time, Geralt!”

“I was not _scheming_.” He snapped at you, that was anger.

“Coincidence, then.” You grinned, using his own word.

“Call it, what you like.” Geralt huffed, rolling his eyes. “I was disappointed, to wake the next morning to find you gone.”

“Were you disappointed, when you woke to me gone, a second time?” You asked, in honesty.

“No.” He shook his head. “I thought you were simply else where in the house. But, when I didn't find you there or outside, I brushed it off, figuring you'd gone to the village to heal someone there. But, when a farmer came asking for you, and said he didn't find you in the village, I grew concerned.” He admitted to you, glancing away. “I checked with the alderman, Elias, he didn't know where you'd gone either.”

“So, how _did_ you find me?” You narrowed your eyes, tilting your head at him.

“Tissaia.” He mumbled. “I went to Aretuza, she used the Font to locate you, so I came here, and asked the Innkeeper, he told me you've been spending your time here. Then, I followed your scent, after that.”

“You scented me.” You grinned at him, amused and flattered, scenting someone wasn't easy. “That's what it is. That's why you can smell me.”

“Because, I'm in love with you.” He nodded, pressing his lips together. “It's why you can smell me too.” He added, knowing the truth. “I've had _many_ lovers over the years, but you are the _only_ one that's smelled _me_ , not the death or blood, or Roach. My _original_ scent.”

“You know, about it?”

“My mother would tell me, when I was a very small child, before she abandoned me at Kaer Morhen.” He nodded, looking you in the eyes.

You got a giddy and nauseous jump in your stomach. “Something, only a soulmate could tell.”

“So, they say.” He said, nervously looking around the room, but he felt the same jump of his stomach. “I'll stay with you, and help you find whatever this creature is, or isn't.” He said, turning towards one of the coffins and reading the inscription. “I am a Witcher, after all. It's part of my living.”

“If you're saying that, to try and convince me, to let you stay.” You quipped, sassy. “There's no need.” You smiled at him, when he looked at you. “I'd enjoy the help, and your knowledge of monsters, and such, and your help dispensing it.”

“If there is a way to dispense it.” Geralt grunted, skeptical.

“Everything dies.” You sighed, rubbing your tired face, again. “It's just a matter of finding what does the trick.”

“Have you found anything?” He asked, turning back to you.

“Other than Atlas's body?” You said, pressing your lips together and raising your eyebrows. “Not a thing. Though, I haven't properly looked at him, yet. I've been working up the nerve.” You admitted, shakily.

“You think, you can find it?” Geralt asked, raising his eyebrow back at you.

“With a bit of _wolf_ -y help.” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

Geralt smirked, snorted and rolled his eyes. “Where's his body?”

“The wannabe alderman and undertaker's house.” You replied, pushing off the coffin you were leaning on. “I haven't been there at all yet.” You called over your shoulder, leading Geralt back out of the Catacombs. “I had the Keeper bring me down here to where they found him. They had removed his body some time before.”

“How did you get here?” Geralt asked, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

“Portal.” You answered, looking at him like it should be obvious, and he gave you a _right_ expression. “The alderman undertaker is this way.” You said, following the path to the Northern most house and knocking on its rattly door.

“Witch!” The Alderman snapped, opening the door.

“For fuck's sake, Ethos, I have a name!” You snapped back, shoving by him and into his house. “This is Geralt of Rivia, he's a Witcher.” You said, motioning to Geralt as he came inside.

“She your whore?” Ethos asked, looking Geralt over, head to toe. “Maybe, _you_ can put her in her woman's place.”

You brought your face within an inch of Ethos's, snarling at him. “One of these days, old man. I'm going to snap that brittle neck of yours and sacrifice you to Satan.” You seethed in a low voice, your silver eyes, eerily reflecting the flames from the hearth beside you.

“I'd love to see you try, woman!” He snarled back, mischievous amusement in his dove-gray eyes.

“Are you two acquainted?” Geralt frowned, lifting a brow at the weird bickering between you.

“Un-fucking-fortunately.” You barked, jerking away from the old man. “Ethos here, was once an adviser for Esteril Thyssen, before he did something unforgivable.” You said, looking at Ethos smugly. “But, he won't say what, and Tankred doesn't know, and anyone that does know, won't say either. But, whatever it was, got, this withered husk of existence, banished here to Midmaw for it.”

“Curse the mouth of this woman, spawn of Satan!” Ethos howled, working himself up.

“You would know the spawns of Satan, being the bastard's grandfather.” You hiss through your teeth.

“Am I going to have to throw cold water on the pair of you?” A short, elderly and plump woman asked, coming out of the kitchen. “ _Again_.” She snapped, eyeing you and Ethos with the expression of a scornful mother.

“Not at all, Emela.” You replied, your seething expression and attitude melting into bright admiration, leaning down some, to hug her, warmly. “I'll behave, as long as you can keep that runt of husband under control.” You added, throwing Ethos a quick and nasty look.

“Off with you, witch!” Ethos snapped, stomping his foot.

“Off with you, you crotchety bugger!” Emela snapped back, swatting him on the shoulder. “She has a name, and you best use it, or you won't have a stick for dinner!” She threatened, glaring at him.

You grinned up at Geralt, highly amused at the going conversation and the look on Geralt's face. “You've never had better food, than Emela's. I'd travel leagues for her roast lamb, and her chocolate and cinnamon cookies.” You complimented her, grinning brightly at her; she'd been a grandmother to you, since you met her all those years ago, and despite the stiff and hostile relationship with Ethos, you two actually _did_ like each other. “We came to see Atlas, Ethos.” You told him on a more somber and serious tone.

“That poor boy.” Emela sighed, shaking her head.

“Fool of one too.” Ethos replied, a tone of sadness in his voice though. “He's in the basement.” He told you, turning on his thin feet and starting that way.

“Will you both stay for dinner?” Emela asked, looking between you and Geralt.

You glanced at Geralt, then back at her. “Of course. Geralt's traveled rather far to find me. So, the _least_ , I owe him is an excellent and hot, homemade dinner.” You told her, giving her one more good squeeze, before following after Ethos.

“Thank you.” Geralt rasped to her, and going after you. “That was a curious conversation.” He commented to you, going down the basement stairs.

“Oh, yeah.” You laughed, glancing back at him. “It always is with Ethos and I, but don't worry your pretty, white head, he and I _actually_ like each other.”

“I like nothing about you, y/n.” Ethos huffed from the dark, before one of the torches in the sconce was lit.

“Oh, come now, Ethos.” You laughed, helping him light the others. “If you didn't like me, why do you make sure Hector keeps my favorite mead on tap?” You smirked, knowingly at him.

“Oh, poo!” He grunted, shaking his head, but the guilty smile was on his thin lips.

“Told you.” You chuckled at Geralt, seeing his growing amusement. “He and I are like, you and Jaskier.”

“Oh, so you have one of these pests too?” Ethos asked, lifting a brow at Geralt and waving a hand at you.

“Two, really.” Geralt chuckled back. “Jaskier, and her.” He said, motioning to you with his head and an amused smirk.

“Gods have mercy.” Ethos shook his head, pulling open a doorway in the basement, a cold room. “No wonder you're a Witcher, you'd have to be a mutant to deal with two of _her_.”

“That's very crusty of you!” You scoffed, eyes wide at Ethos.

“Not at all a lie.” Geralt laughed, smiling more at you.

“Oh, who's side are you on?” You giggled back.

“Yours.” He whispered, leaning in and delicately kissing you.

“Oh, none of that!” Ethos choked, grimacing. “We don't need any more of her.”

“You damn well know, neither of us can have children, you old coot.” You replied, laughing so hard, your body shook.

“Again, thank the Gods!” He grunted, grabbing the edge of a burlap tarp. “Come help, I'm a lot older than I look, ya know!” He complained.

“Yeah, Yeah, don't snap those twig arms.” You sighed, moving over to grab the ends he was holding, as Geralt grabbed the other side, picking up Atlas's wrapped body and laying him out on a long table in the middle of the room.

“Do you want the instruments?” Ethos asked, standing on the side of the table and fixing you with a serious, and professional, gaze.

“How bad is he?” You asked, a bit queasy.

“Well,” Ethos sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

You sighed, gulping down your stomach. “Let me see him, then I'll decide.” You told him, putting on a stony expression.

Nodding his head once, Ethos took a small knife from his belt and split open the fabric and carefully threw it back from Atlas's body. You let out a long, hard breath and closed your eyes, seeing his body; half of his face had either been gnawed or scratched off, exposing a bit of his brain, where his left eye was once. His throat was crushed, a large hole in his chest, a long vertical gash over his stomach, only bits of his intestines hanging out, from being ripped out, eaten or not, you couldn't tell. His right leg, two or three finger widths below his knee, was going, a snapped, bleach white nub of bone sticking out.

“Fuck almighty.” You groaned and leaning on your hands, against the table. “Atlas, what the fuck attacked you.” You sighed, at a loss. “Have you ever seen anything like this, Geralt?” You asked, looking up at him, praying that he had; but your hope plummeted back to the ground, when he shook his head.

“No.” He said, almost soundless.

“It looks like the work of several different creatures, all at once.” Ethos said, looking at Atlas's destroyed face.

“His brain is still there.” You said, steeling yourself and getting to business, doing your absolute best to push away the personal and emotional portion of your mind. “His heart...” You pushed your fingers into the cold, stiff and coagulated hole in the center of his chest, closing your eyes at the disturbing feel. “Only the upper portion of it is still intact, likely having ripped out that way.” You moved down his body and shoved your bloody hand into his stomach. “Intestines and lungs are there. Liver is not, nor is one of his kidneys.” You frowned, feeling for the other kidney. “his other one is displaced, like, it was starting to remove it, I can feel what feels like nail indentations, but, was interrupted by something or someone.” You pulled your hand out and checked the remainder of his leg. “May I?” You asked, holding your clean hand out to Ethos, who handed you his knife. 

You cut off the sagging pant leg and examined his upper thigh and knee. You rolled his stiff skin and muscle, exposing the inside of his thigh, there were claw marks on it. “I need to see his back.” You said, putting the knife down and turned Atlas's body over with Geralt and Ethos's help. “That's what I thought.” You nodded, removing the remains of his shirt, exposing his back, where deep claw gouges were, and three nail punctures in semi-crescent shape and one mark farther out, like a thumb, but upside down. You moved behind Geralt and tilted your head, trying to picture it, he watched you over his shoulder.

“What are you thinking?” He asked, watching you tilt your head side to side, eyes fixed and in the middle distance.

“It came up behind him.” You said, voice soft and distant, raising your hand, with your pinky tucked against your palm, your other three fingers out in a claw shape, with your thumb. “It scratched his back,” You made the motion, down the length of Geralt's broad back. “And, Atlas must have stumbled, forward, from the force, or surprise.”

“Or both.” Ethos chimed in, examining the marks himself, fully agreeing with you.

“He went forward,-” You narrowed your eyes, confused.

“What is it?”

“If you, or I, were to hunt someone like this, _theoretically_ , of course.” You said, trying to work it out. “My own instinct would be to grab their arm.” You said, grabbing the back of Geralt's. “Are there marks on the back of his arms, Ethos?”

“No.” The old man shook his head, checking. “Just his back and thigh.”

“I might grab them at the back of the neck, if I were taller than them.” Geralt added, making both you and Ethos look at him, curious, and Ethos brushed Atlas's long blond hair off his neck.

“There are two shallow marks at his neck.” He nodded, looking back up to you and Geralt.

You took a deep breath, getting it now. “It went for his neck, missed for some reason, perhaps Atlas was moving, walking forward, its claws caught in his shirt, slicing him down the back. Both of them must have been surprised; Atlas from the attack and pain, and the creature from the miss. They both fell to the ground.” You moved back to Atlas's leg. “Atlas tried to crawl _away_ from it, it grabbed the back of his thigh, here.” You pointed out the marks there. “Dragged him back, and Atlas must have turned over, or it turned him over, ripping his leg off in the process.” It all seemed to make a load of sense now. “dragged him beneath it, killing him with the bite or swipe to his face,” you looked up at the remainder of his face, blinked and looked away again. “He wouldn't have survived that. Crushed his through and tore into his chest, for his heart...”

“Really wouldn't have survived that.” Ethos huffed, shaking his head.

“Not in the slightest.” Geralt agreed, resting his hand carefully on the small of your back, supportively.

“No.” You gulped. “After that, used a claw to tear open his stomach, pushed the bowels aside, grabbed his liver and a kidney, before trying to go for the second one, but didn't get too, for some reason.” You sighed, pressing your lips together and feeling the throb of a migraine forming. “What could have disturbed, or scare off, something as strong and dark as this creature?” You looked up at Ethos. “You've seen the other victims bodies?” You asked him, frowning.

“I have.” Ethos nodded, rubbing his wrinkled forehead. “None of them are like this, though.” He stated.

“Worse or better?”

“Well, it depends on which one.” He let out a stream of breath through pursed lips. “Some are even worse, missing all their limbs, or a combinations of them, or beheaded. Some all intact, until you look for their organs and insides. Others, you only find an arm, a leg or half a torso.”

“It makes no fucking sense.” You huffed, agitated and annoyed. “What creature has such inconsistency?” You asked, pointing this question at Geralt.

His brows shot up for a moment, as he tried to think of them. “Not many.” He replied, pressing his palms to the table and leaning over Atlas's body. “Striga take organs, they're picky eaters. But, they rarely rip body parts off. They're also easier to identify, they do have patterns that out their existence. So, it can't be one of them. Werewolves scratch and dismember, but aren't interested in organ eating.”

“They also have identifying attacks.” You growled, frustrated.

“Most Vampiric creatures like sleeping bait, and if Atlas's was moving, when he was attacked, he wasn't asleep.” Geralt huffed, at a loss, just like you and Ethos.

“If it attacked at his neck first, and moved down, from falling or otherwise.” You frowned, looking at the scratches on Atlas's back. “It has to be able to stand on two legs. Atlas isn't... _wasn't_...a short man.” You observed, looking between Geralt and Ethos, hoping the three of you could come up with something.

“There is one slight pattern.” Emela's voice came as she walked down the basement stairs.

“What do you mean?” You asked, turning towards her.

“How have you noticed a pattern?” Ethos asked her, dubious of his wife.

“I am the one that answers the door, when they come knocking for the Undertaker.” She huffed, shaking her head. “The bodies, or their parts, are usually found just before dawn, on a full or half moon. Atlas, the poor sweet boy, died just before dawn, from what Varen, the Keeper, says.”

“When did that one before Atlas die?” You asked, head tilting with interest.

“Last new moon.” Ethos said, the dawning realization in his voice. “and the one before that, at a full moon.”

“New moon, full moon...” You looked up at them, then rushed back up the stairs, their thundering feet chasing up after you, and you burst out into the chill night air.

“Y/n, what is it?” Geralt huffed, coming out after you, as you looked up at the sky and spun in a circle.

“Aha!!” You laughed, grinning and jumping up and down. “The damn thing does have a pattern, Geralt!” You said, looking at him, joyous. “Last night was a quarter moon! It doesn't attack at dawn, full moon, then a new moon. It attacks before dawn, on a full, _quarter_ and new moon!” You explained your excitement to them. “That's its pattern, it does it based on the four major moon phases. It's a night based creature, dictated by full, quarter and new moon phases.” You said, scrolling through the list of creatures in your mental catalog that match that description.

“But, there are no creatures matching those factors.” Ethos said, shaking his head and running a hand through his balding silver hair.

“There is, apparently.” Geralt said, staring at you, surprised. “It's just managed to be rather elusive.”


	6. Forgotten Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Geralt investigate more about the monster plaguing Midmaw, and suspect that Ethos knows more than he’s letting on.

“Do you think there's been other cases like this, that have just been mistaken for other creatures?” You asked, sitting at Emela and Ethos's dinner table.

“It's very likely.” Geralt nodded, taking a gulp of ale. “I have heard and come across happenings that share a few similar factors. But, nothing to this extent, and I've been a Witcher for a century.” He said, his mind hadn't stopped running through the facts of the situation since he agreed to help you.

“A creature that kills and attacks like a multitude of creatures.” Ethos mumbled, around a mouth of food. “A mutant?” He glanced at Geralt. “No offense.” he added, sheepish.

“None taken.” Geralt replied, tipping his head.

“A mutant of what?” You frowned, considering it. “A Bruxa, werewolf..” You waved your hand, like you were trying to pull more creatures that could do this, out of the air. “ _thing_. Created by a pissed off Mage, or a failed experiment.”

“It's probable.” Ethos sighed, rubbing his tired face.

“Yeah, we're not exactly _ethical_ , when it comes to being pissed off and slighted.” You sighed back. “At least, we know, when the thing attacks.” You pushed your empty dinner plate away from you. “We have five days until the moon phase it _should_ attack on.” You said, ringing your fingers around the rim of your mug. “It didn't attack on the ones I was here for.”

“Or that we're aware of.” Ethos chimed in. “Just because it's not attacking anyone in the Village at those times, doesn't mean its still not attacking _something_ at those times.”

“That's a fair point.” Geralt agreed, nodding. “Are there any other settlements or farms near by?”

“No.” Ethos shook his head. “The next closest settlement is Watford, a hundred miles northeast of Lan Exeter, and that's almost two hundred miles from here.”

“Why in the world, would anyone build a village so far out of the way, and in the shadow of a Dragon infested Mountain range?” You frowned, shaking your head, it seemed such an illogical suicide mission. “So far from aid, the kingdom's army, proper _any_ thing.”

“Well,” Ethos tipped back in his chair, rubbing his scruffy chin with his thumb and forefinger. “This particular area, wasn't always part of Kovir and Poviss. Originally, it was part of the Dragary Kingdom. Midmaw was one of their most bustling towns. It supplied a lot of the ore for the kingdom, Kovir, Poviss and Creyden, among other places. These mountains were, and possibly still are, filled with the rare and precious ore, Dragirium.”

“Dragirium?” You frowned, head tilting with interest. “I've never...heard of it?”

“Oh, that's not a surprise.” He laughed, grinning at you. “You won't find it in any of your fancy Sorceress books and classes. It hasn't been mined for almost three hundred years, lost largely to the world, after the Dragary Kingdom fell. They were the only ones that knew where to find it, or mine it, for that matter. Spies from Kingdoms, as far as Nilfgaard, tried getting on the Dragirium mining teams, to find it. But, getting on the teams were damn near impossible, if you weren't a Dragarian, and they always seemed to know that people either weren't one of them, or if one of their own had been corrupted by the outside.”

“What happened to them?” You asked him. “I've done extensive reading into the continent's past, and any history of Midmaw, I could get my hands on. I never found a mention of Dragary or Dragirium. How do you know about all of this?”

Ethos heaved a sigh. “I've lived a long time, child.” He told you, leveling a tired and soft expression at you, there was none of that usual banter in his eyes. “My father was one of the Royal Kovir Trade Merchants, he was the one that dealt in the trade of the ore between the Dragarian and the Kovirian. He would tell me stories about them. They worshiped a god, Dilos, supposed to be a god of Dragons. Which is why they built their kingdom so far North, close to the Dragon Mountains and Dragons themselves.” He explained, his eyes glassing over as he recalled it. “But, one day, they were attacked. Two Dragons came down from the Mountain and laid waste to them, they destroyed a large chunk of the kingdom. Only three villages were left intact, in some form; Midmaw, all but what you see here was destroyed. Dalry, there's only burned out remains, and Hammer's Glen, one of the mining towns, there's nothing left there, but the forge.”

“If that's one of the mining towns, doesn't that mean they mined their ore close by?”

“Yes.” He nodded, troubled. “But, _where_ in the area, hasn't been located. People tried finding it for decades, before giving up, and the whole thing fell into legend, and forgotten.”

“Were there any survivors?” Geralt asked, deeply interested himself.

“No.” Ethos shook his head, setting his chair on four legs again. “The ones that did survive the attack, all committed sacrificial suicide. Believing they had insulted and upset Dilos, which caused the attack, and to try and appease him, they killed themselves. Every last one of them.”

“Well, that's not morbid.” You said, blinking and freaked out.

“Did people just resettle Midmaw?” Geralt asked, curious.

“No.” Ethos replied, biting his lip. “When the Dragary fell, Kovir and Poviss absorbed it into their kingdom, and started using Midmaw as a place to exile members of their court. Many of them had families that followed them into exile, repopulating it into what you see now. Not many people want to be here, they only stay because their family and livelihoods are here.”

“That makes sense.” You sighed, rubbing your neck and shoulder. “How far are the other two towns, Dalry and Hammer's Glen?” You asked, lifting a tired brow at him.

“Oh, don't tell me, you're going to go pick around those charred sights.” He groaned, pinching his nose.

“I'm thinking about it.” You told him, bluntly. “It might help.”

“You think, a died out, burned to a crisp society, that's been gone longer than you've been alive, is the reason for these attacks?” He snapped, laughing in your face.

“I'd be a fool, like _you_ , old man.” You snapped back. “if I didn't consider _all_ possibilities.” You growled.

“There's nothing there, but bones and burned out buildings.” He huffed, shaking his head at you.

“Then, why the worry about it?” You countered, lifting a brow at him. “If there's nothing there, why not just tell me where they are?” You pressed him.

Ethos grunted, rolling his eyes. “Hammer's Glen is thirty miles northwest of Midmaw, and Dalry is six miles south of that.” He conceded, giving in.

“That wasn't so horrible, was it?” You replied.

“You're not this stupid, y/n.” Ethos answered, excusing himself from the table and going upstairs.

You sighed, shaking your head, before excusing yourself and bid Emela good night. “Why would he be so against Dalry and Hammer's Glen being checked out?” You asked Geralt, as the pair of you walked back to the inn.

“I don't know.” He replied, bothered by it himself. “I get the feeling, he's protecting something.”

“As do I.” You agreed, going inside.

“Oh, no! Don't let that fucking Witcher in here!” The Innkeeper, Hector, shouted from the bar.

You looked behind you to Geralt, seeing the annoyed expression on his face. “What did you do to him?”

“He broke my nose!”

“I did, and I'll do it again.” Geralt growled, low in his chest.

“Why did you break his nose?” You asked, amused.

“He was about to make a _very_ rude comment about you.” He answered, glaring holes into Hector.

“Ah, protecting my honor, I see.” You grinned up at him, and looked back to Hector. “If _you_ behave, Hector, so will Geralt.” You told him, turning and going up the stairs to your room.

“Where did you get this?” Geralt asked, closing the door to your room as you pulled your shirt off, revealing a very ugly bruise on your back, and gingerly touched it with his fingertips.

“Doing something stupid.” You answered, rubbing at your sore shoulders. “I found a gap in the rubble blocking the fourth level of the catacomb, and tried going through it.” You explained, looking over your shoulder at him. “It didn't work out, some more rubble fell and caught me there.”

“You're right, that was incredibly stupid.” He agreed, shaking his head at you. “You could have been killed.”

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, tutting at him. “I was fine. I don't think, I even broke anything.” You assured him. “Either way, I'm a Healer, I can heal myself.” You laughed, trying to brush the incident off, it had been a bit more dramatic than you were going to let Geralt on to; you had been knocked out for a couple of minutes in the process, but you didn't want him to worry. “Which reminds me.” You moved over to your bags, slowly leaning down to sort through one of them. “I have some Arnica ointment, the should help it along.” You said, pulling out the glass jar of it.

“Hand it here.” Geralt sighed, motioning for you to give it to him.

“You going to nurse some of my wounds now, Geralt.” You teased him, giving him the jar.

“It's only fair.” He replied, twisting it open, the pine and sage-like scent reaching his sensitive nose. “I owe you for nursing mine.” He said, scooping some of the light yellow substance and setting the jar aside.

With surprising gentleness, Geralt rubbed the ointment into the black and dark purple bruise from your shoulderblade to almost your hip. You hissed as he rubbed it along your ribs, and decided to re-evaluate your thoughts on having not broken anything, but the sharpness of the pain felt more like a cracked rib, instead of a broken one. Your bruise covered, Geralt's hands rested on your tight shoulders, gently kneading them with his palms, as his firm thumbs rubbing circles up and down the base of your neck. You moaned, feeling your muscles melt under his rough and skilled hands, dropping your head forward, and making Geralt chuckle.

“When are you going to investigate those villages?” He asked, turning you around to face him, his fingers gently touching the long scar on your shoulder from the Bruxa.

“Probably tomorrow.” You answered, studying his face as his fingertip traced the raised pink skin. “You want to come with me?” You asked, tilting your head.

“I was going to go, whether you asked me or not.” He smirked at you.

“My White Wolf in leather armor.” You giggled, teasing him and slowly starting to tug off his armor.

“Am I now?” He chuckled, blushing very softly.

“Indeed, sir.” You nodded, glaring at him mischievously and finished removing his leather armor, leaving him in his normal buttoned, black long sleeve shirt and his black leather and cotton pants. “Much better.” You smiled, standing on your toes and kissing him. “Are you staying _here_ with me?” You asked, breaking the kiss.

“If you wish it.”

“I more than wish it.” You told him, sincerely.

“Then, I'll stay.” He replied, and gently rested his forehead against yours, taking a deep breathe of your scent.

_– –_

You and Geralt rode to Dalry first, early the next morning. You slipped off the back of Roach, when you arrived in the village. From Ethos's description of the place before the attacks, it was a large clearing, hustling and bustling with people, it was one of the richer places in the former kingdom, and you could tell that, even after so much time. The cracked and displaced stones of what had once been paved streets. Mother Nature had reclaimed it, trees growing out of the burned out husks of charred, moss and ivy covered homes and store fronts. You could still smell the oh-so-faint scent of burned wood, and death. You stepped through the gaping doorway of one building, a large elm grew out of the weather warped and busted floorboards, as you stepped over them. A small creature skittered along the leaning black and vine covered wall to your left, dodging out through a missing board. You squeezed between the the back wall and the trunk of the elm, disappearing into a roofless, but still reasonably intact back room. Judging by the large and rusted barrel hoops and smashed pottery among the tall grass and mushrooms, you would wager this had probably been the ale house, at some point. Finding nothing of interest, you squeezed your way back out, leaving that building behind. You moved on, searching other buildings, nooks and crannies.

“Anything of interest?” Geralt asked, emerging from a three walled building up ahead of you.

“Nothing.” You shook your head. “Nothing, but animals and nature, has disturbed this place in a very long time.”

“Hammer's Glen?” He suggested, untying Roach's reins from around a sapling.

“Yep.” You nodded, taking his arm and letting him pull you up behind him.

Ethos was right, Hammer's glen was nothing more, than a forge. Nothing, man made stood in the area, but the large crumbling, stone and brick furnace and the well, in what would have been the middle of Hammer's Glen. You checked out the furnace, and found nothing, but some squirrels nesting in its cold bowels. You went to the well and wrinkled your nose at the foul smell as you stepped up to it.

“ _Aine_.” You whispered and an orb of light flashed to live in your hand, you let it slip from your palm and watched as it slowly fell into the dark abyss of the well.

“What is that stench?” Geralt asked, drawn in by it.

“I don't know.” You replied and leaned over the opening, the orb of light didn't go far, before illuminating the recesses of it. “Christ.” You gasped, sharply.

“What?” Geralt frowned, seeing the startled and frightened look on your face, he looked into the well and blinked startled by what he saw.

There were decomposing limbs and heads of various people, one of the decapitated heads stared back up at you and Geralt, his face twisted with a look of horror, mouth open, as if in a scream, and his dead milky eyes wide with shock. You glanced up at Geralt, an almost mirrored expression on your face as he looked back at you.

“Ethos said, several of the victims were missing body parts and their heads.” You said, slowly. “I guess, we know where they are now.”

“Hm.” He grunted, frowning and pressing his lips in a hard line, as he looked around the surrounding treeline behind you.

“If you were a man eating monster, you'd need somewhere to hide. Especially, if you were as man eating monster, that only came out during the night.” You said, looking at the trees behind Geralt. “Where would the perfect place be?”

“A abandoned mining village, thirty miles from a good food source.” Geralt rumbled, his body tensing as if he expected the creature to jump out and attack right then.

“Ten gold, says it's found that old mining shaft, and uses it as a home.” You said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No.” Geralt snapped, firmly.

“What?” You frowned at him.

“No.” He growled again. “You want to go looking for it.” He could read it in your eyes, like lines out of a book. “ _No_.”

“Geralt, if that thing is in that mine, we can go in and kill it!” You protested.

“We don't even know what _it_ is, y/n.” He barked, exasperated. “We don't know, what it's entirely capable of, or what kills it. It might be immune to magic and other attacks.”

“How are we supposed to find that all out, if we don't go looking for it, Geralt?” You countered his argument, folding your arms.

Geralt pressed his lips together, pursing them and rolling his eyes shut.

“Exactly.” You huffed, shaking your head. “You're a Witcher, isn't that like ninety percent of what you do? Stand there, waiting for the beast to attack you, and then just stab it through the heart, or lop its head off.” You asked, sarcastically.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You know, better than that.”

“Maybe.” You sassed, walking away from the well and towards the mountain. “It has to be somewhere near by, relatively easy to access. Ore, of any type, is heavy in quantity. They wouldn't want to have to transport it so far by hand.”

“There would be ore carts.” Geralt added in, knowing he was either going to help you properly, or you were just going to do it on your own, like the Bruxa. “So, there has to be tracks.”

“There are no carts near here.” You said, toeing at the ground.

You walked farther on, walking along the edge of the village and mountain, looking for any sign or clue that would show you the way. You paused, suddenly and turned sharply on your heels, frowning into the treeline. Geralt stopped beside you, turning his head towards where you were looking, but saw nothing. You took several steps backwards, making Geralt lift a quizzical brow at you, then you stepped back to where you had been standing.

“How far are we from the well?” You asked, him, still staring through the trees.

“Um,” Geralt sighed, twisting his body to look back the way you had come. “a mile or two.” He estimated, looking back to you. “Why? What are you seeing?”

“The tree distance.” You replied, moving towards them. “nearly every tree is within two to three feet of each other, but the trees here..” You trailed off, pressing your back to one of the trees and started, carefully, walking across to the next one, muttering under your breath. “These are all almost _ten_ feet apart.” You looked over at him, brow deeply creased. “Why?” You inquired, looking down the way. “All of the trees from here, for as far as I can see, are about that ten foot distance from each other. It's not something nature would do, it would be something a person, or people, would do.”

Geralt looked down, then squatted, brushing his fingers through the dirt and rock. “Y/n.” He called to you. “Tracks.” He pointed out the three inch wide, embedded, metal track.

“Very nice catch.” You smiled, squatting next to him.

“So, those trees are spaced to accommodate the ore carts moving back and forth.” He looked in the direction the track moved into the forest between the trees, then where it, oddly, disappeared into a pure rock face.

“And disappears into...nothing.” You said, standing up and moving closer. “If there was a cave in or an attempt to hide the entrance, we would see the evidence of it. But, this is... _untouched_.”

“That's exceedingly strange.” He agreed with you, glancing around the other sides of the mountain. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He sighed, watching you pull yourself up the rocks.

“Looking.” You answered.

“Y/n!” Geralt jerked, catching you as you fell. “Be careful, you don't need anymore bruises or cracked ribs.” He warned you, setting you back on your feet.

“Wasn't all useless.” You replied, your eyes fixed on something that was behind the rocks your slip displaced. “Look.” You pointed it out to him.

“It's a dragon's head.” He said, leaning close to the indented dragon head carved into the stone.

You reached up and touched it, feeling the inside edges of it. “It's like it needs a key, to open it.” You said, softly.

“Hm.” Geralt nodded, agreeing with you. “But, we don't have a key.”

“Someone does, though.” You said, looking down and seeing the disturbed floor beneath it. “How would they get their hands on something like that, I wonder. A people that hasn't been around it over three hundred years, supposedly, lost to the generations.”

“Someone from them must still be alive.” Geralt said, even more on alert.

“And killing people.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I need to learn more about these people. There has to be something on them, somewhere. Ethos can't be the only person that remembers them.”

“He did say the Kovir took control of the area, after they were attacked. Perhaps there's something in Lan Exeter, that can tell you something.” He suggested, looking down at you.

It dawned on you, then. “There is.” You smirked up at him. “You are a genius, Geralt of Rivia.” You giggled, excited, and kissed him on the lips. “I need to go to Pont Vanis.” You told him, turning back towards where you and Geralt left Roach.

“What is in Pont Vanis?” Geralt asked, keeping up with you. “Everyone will be in Lan Exeter.”

“Yes,” You agreed. “But, Aero.” You told him over your shoulder.

“Who's Aero?”

“He's an Elf.” You replied, practically skipping with joy. “He's a scholar. He's worked with the royalty of Kovir and Poviss for, eons.” You explained to him, catching sight of Roach. “He's well over five hundred years old, if anyone would know about long lost societies and the like, it would be Aero.”

“And you know he'll speak to you about it?” Geralt asked, boosting you up on Roach.

“Oh gods, yes.” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his waist. “That Elf will talk to anyone about anything, if you get him on the right subject, and history is _always_ his subject.”

– –

You and Geralt returned to Midmaw, you were going to go tell Ethos what you and he had found, when Geralt grabbed you by the arm, stopping you.

“I don't think you should tell him.” He whispered to you, glancing up at the old man's house.

“Why?” You frowned.

“He's hiding something.” He told you. “We both know that. He didn't want you going to start with, if he feels or finds out that we discovered something, he will only become more suspicious and closed off.”

You thought about his words for a moment, then nodded. “You are right. But, I still need to go and talk to Aero.”

Geralt chewed on his lip as he considered it. “Perhaps, a partial truth.” He suggested. “Why don't you tell him, you _didn't_ find anything at the villages, but, you want to go and find out about any _mythological_ or _fabled_ creatures that could fit the description of what we're hunting.”

“A solid alibi.” You agreed with him, Ethos was hiding something, it could be simple, or it could be horribly complicated, either way. “What about the new moon, that's due to happen soon?”

Geralt pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I'll stay here in Midmaw, while you go to Pont Vanis. It'll look less suspicious, if only you go, and I can keep an eye out for the creature.”

Your hand squeezed his forearm, you had a queasy feeling about leaving without him. You had gotten the same feeling, when you got the news of Atlas's death a few hours after you and Geralt had fallen back to sleep. You had woken up an hour or so later, thirsty, and found Atlas's assistant standing on your porch, informing you of his death. You didn't want to leave Geralt without notice, especially after what had transpired between you, but you also knew that if you didn't, things would only get worse. Killing regular people is one thing, but managing to killing a Wizard like Atlas, that was a complete other. So, you grabbed what supplies you'd need, lightly kissed Geralt on the lips, and vanished through a portal to Midmaw.

“Fine.” You sighed, there wasn't any other way.

“Y/n!” Ethos's voice yelled as he stepped out of his home.

“Ethos!” You yelled back, squeezing Geralt's forearm again.

“Did you find anything?” He asked, coming closer to you and Geralt.

“Sadly, no.” You sighed, putting on a disappointed expression. “But, I'm going to go talk to an old friend, that has a specialty in mythological and fabled creatures. Maybe, one of them isn't as made up as it seems.” You told him, feeling Geralt squeeze your hand. “and Geralt is going to stay, in case I don't return before the new moon.” You looked up at Geralt. “He'll protect you.” You said, a tease in your silver eyes.

“But, who's going to protect me?” He teased back, amused.

“Roach.” You stated, with a firm nod of your head.

Geralt laughed. “I feel all the better.”

“So, when do you leave?” Ethos asked, raising an eyebrow at you and Geralt.

“Soon enough.” You answered, giving him your attention again. “I'm starving.” You said, gripping Geralt's hand, firmer. “See you, when I get back, Ethos.” You called over your shoulder, pulling Geralt into the Inn with you. “I'll leave after we eat.” You said, sighing heavily.

“All right.” Geralt nodded, sitting down across from you.

“You think, he has something to do with it.” You asked him, quietly.

“With the attacks?” Geralt sighed, staring into his ale. “I don't know. I think, he might have a better idea of what's going on than he's letting on too. I think, whatever it is, he's afraid of it.”


	7. From the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You visit an old friend in Pont Vanis about Dragary’s past and Geralt investigates the Midmaw Catacombs for himself. Both of you get some clues on the mystery ailing the village, and perhaps a warning as well.

You moaned feeling Geralt's large hands grasp your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. You were supposed to be leaving for Pont Vanis to talk with Aero about the forgotten society of Dragary. But, Geralt had followed, _very_ , close behind you as you went up to your room to retrieve something from your bag. As you leaned down to dig through your bag, Geralt's intense body heat radiate against your back, the scent of warm grass, fresh air and Chamomile growing strong in your nose, then his hands soothe over your hips and sides, to your breasts; a smile formed on your face.

“You know, if I pause to satisfy you, it will take more time away from finding this monster.” You casually said over your shoulder, you didn't actually care, the heat of his body, his scent and touch, had awoken and warmed the spot deep between your legs.

“We have three days.” He replied, his voice deeper than usual.

“Making love with you, feels like a week.” You chuckled, straightening up.

“A good week, I hope.” He smirked, wrapping a thick arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body, allowing you to feel how awake he was, pressing his lips to your neck and shoulder.

“A magical week.” You answered, resting your head back against his shoulder.

“Then, I would be rather upset, if I had to be interrupted in pleasuring you, in three days.” He growled against your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin.

“I guess, we'll have to make do.” You panted, rubbing yourself back against him.

“Hm.” He grunted.

Geralt's skilled fingers found the ties of your shirt, slowly pulling them open and let your shirt slip to the floor, squeezing your hips and turning you around. You unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his head, rubbing your palms down his muscular and scarred chest, touching the freshly closed kikimora scar. Geralt brushed your hair off your shoulders and pulled you closer to him, tilting your head up, meeting your eye for a moment, before devouring your mouth. He gave the string of your skirt one good tug and it dropped in a pool at your feet, his pants following soon after. Geralt wrapped your arms around his neck and bent, grabbing the back of your thighs and picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. His fingers traveled over the slope of your ass to your pussy, drawing out a low moan from your lips as he eased a finger inside your already wet core. You threaded your fingers into Geralt's hair, pulling out the tie that kept his hair in the traditional Rivian style, letting the silvery-white strands spill over his shoulders. Your head felt back feeling his second digit delve inside of you and crook into your sweet spot, allowing him to take advantage of your exposed throat and latched onto it with his mouth, biting and sucking. Removing his fingers, Geralt gripped his weeping cock and guided himself into you, moving his hands to your hips and jerked his hips in a shallow thrust, making you gasp. You rolled your hips with every one of Geralt's thrusts, tightening your legs around his waist.

“Fuck.” He growled, out of breath already. “I love being inside of you.”

“As...do I.” You replied, panting, nails digging into his shoulders and hands in his hair.

You pressed your forehead to his and hugged your walls tighter around his cock, his grunted, nipping at the pulse in your throat. He faltered for a moment, holding his arms snugger around your waist, pressing your sweaty chests together as you orgasmed around him. The wet sound filled the room as Geralt continued to thrust into you, working himself into a frenzy and finally flooding you with his hot seed, he turned and took a step back, before sitting down, dropping onto the edge of the bed with you still firmly in his lap, making you twitch as the impact jolted his softening cock into your sensitive core.

“Still felt like a week.” You laughed, breathy, and rested your head against his shoulder.

Geralt laughed, gliding his fingertips up your sweaty spine. “Good.” He panted into your ear, voice thick from his high.

“What _are_ you doing?” You asked, as Geralt shifted you both to lay down, still completely buried inside of you.

“Taking a nap.” He answered, curving his body around yours and hugging you back against him.

“Like _this_?” You teased, flexing around his cock.

“Yes.” He nodded, his voice raspy as he drifted off to sleep. “ _This_ way, you can't leave, while I sleep. I'll know.”

“Clever.” You giggled, grabbing one of his hands in both of yours, hugging his thick arm against your chest and tucked under your chin, then fell off to sleep with him.

– –

“Be careful.” Geralt warned as you got ready to leave.

“You're telling _me_ to be careful, when you're the one staying here with an anonymous monster on the loose?” You chuckled, amused.

“Yes.” He replied, folding his arms over his chest.

“As long as you promise to do the same.” You told him, slipping your sword into its sheath.

“You have my word.” Geralt assured you.

“Then, you have mine.” You smirked, kissing his cheek. “I'll return as soon as I can.”

“I'll be here.”

With that and a gush of wind, you were gone, leaving Geralt standing in the room by himself.

– –

You reached the gates of Pont Vanis in the blink of an eye, it was still bustling despite the cold weather and you picked your way through streets, heading for the royal distract and Aero's home. You hadn't seen the Elf in quite some time, but his enthusiasm in seeing you, after opening his door, was like you had seen each other the day before.

“Y/n!” He shouted, pulling you into a bear hug. “It is incredible to see you!” He said, holding you at arm's length. “You look exactly the same as the last time I saw you!”

“Not aging has its perks.” You laughed, shaking your head. “You look the same yourself.”

“Elven.” He chuckled back. “What's brought you to my door?”

“I need your brain.” You smiled at him. “What do you know about the Dragary?”

“The Dragary, Dragon People.” He nodded, rubbing his bearded chin. “They're mostly legend these days, if they're that lucky. Why is it you need to know about them?”

“I'm investigating strange happenings in Midmaw, which I understand, use to be part of the Dragary lands.” You explained, following him inside.

“It was, yes.” Aero nodded, picking up a kettle and filling it with fresh water. “It's an exile town now, but I'm sure you know that.” He set the kettle to boil, pulled out two cups, tea, sugar and cream. “Their capital, back in the day, was Dilosmund. There isn't much of it that survived unscathed from the dragon attack. Everywhere else ended up a burnt crisp.”

“I understand, that after the dragons attacked, the survivors all sacrificed themselves, believing they had wronged their dragon God, Dilos. Is that true?” You asked, making yourself comfortable in the overstuffed leather chair by the fire.

“It is, yes.” Aero replied, pulling the screaming kettle off the fire and pouring the boiling water into the tea pot, to brew the tea. “Rather sad, really.” He sighed, taking a seat across from you. “They were such lovely people.”

“You knew them?” You frowned, leaning forward.

“Several of them, to be exact.” He sighed, frowning into the flames of the hearth. “They were very peaceful society, they didn't even have an army.”

“What?” You snapped, your voice high pitch at the shock.

“Yes. Not a single soldier among them.” He chuckled, shaking his head, amused. “Though, I suppose they really didn't need one. The lot of them were very skilled fighters and hunters, and not even an army of a thousand men are crazy enough to march into Dragon infested lands. But, no. No army of a like. They were almost purely a mining society.” He explained, pouring you a cup of tea.

“Dragirium.” You nodded, taking the cup from him.

“You've heard of it?” He asked, lifting a surprised brow at you.

“Ethos Velhad told me _very_ little about them.” You elaborated, putting a bit of sugar and cream into your tea.

“Oh, that old crust.” Aero rolled his eyes at the mention of him.

“You two know each other?”

“We met, when he was still an adviser for the king here.” He explained, sipping his tea.

“Do you know what he did to get exiled to Midmaw?” You asked, interest peaking.

“Unfortunately, no.” He shook his head. “That ever old Velhad did, its been kept firmly under wraps.”

“That's disappointing.” You sighed, resting back.

“But, back to the Dragary.” He said, setting his cup down and got up. “They were incredibly skilled in mining, even more so than the Dwarves.” He explained, disappearing for a moment. “The only ones that could mine this.” He came back, holding out a rough red lump. “Dragirium.” He sat back down as you inspected it. “Incredibly durable and strong stuff, makes for wonderful weapons. Once it's forged into a sword or dagger and sharpened, it never loses that sharp edge, not matter what you use it on.”

“I can see why so many would want to know where to find, and how to mine, it.” You said, pressing your lips together in an impressed line, despite the bit of ore being rather sizable, it was surprisingly light. “It's almost weightless.”

“Also, another advantage.” Aero agreed. “Do you know what type of creature it is plaguing the village?” He asked.

“Not in the slightest.” You groaned, setting the ore on the table between you. “It's nothing I've ever encountered or heard of. I've scoured hundreds of books and scrolls, picked the brains of several Mages, with no luck.”

“Describe it to me.” He said, refilling his cup.

“I haven't seen it yet, the only ones that have seen it, are the ones that end up dead.” You told him. “It attacks like several different kinds of creatures. It attacks with claws, eats the heart, liver and kidneys. Rips off body parts; arms, legs and head. Crushes the throat. It only comes out at night, and only attacks during either a full, quarter or new moon.”

“Very strange.” Aero's brows drew together, pondering it. “That does indeed sound like several different monsters.” He scratched his beard and stared into the fire.

“Are there any mythological or fabled creatures, you're aware of, that matches that description?” You asked, wondering if Geralt's alibi, could also have an edge of truth.

“Gods, there are so many of those kinds of creatures and monsters.” He huffed, blinking at the endless possibilities.

“Letting you think on that for a moment.” You said, seeing the look on his face. “Dragary mining. They were exceedingly secretive on where they mined. People tried for some time to find the shafts..”

“Unlucky, in doing so.” Aero added in.

“What if, they were right in front of your face, the whole time?” You asked him, letting the hint line your voice.

“What do you mean?” He asked, head tilting.

“A Witcher and I,”

“You're working with a Witcher?”

“I am.” You replied, hoping you weren't blushing as hard as you felt you were. “Geralt of Rivia. But, he and I examined the ruins of Dalry and Hammer's Glen. We found nothing in Dalry, naturally. But, in Hammer's Glen, we found the discarded parts of victims in the old well. Going on a hunch, we examined the area between the village and mountain, discovering transport carts leading from a seemingly untouched rock face, into the woods.”

“That's incredible!” Aero explained, his eyes alight with wonder.

“It is.” You laughed, nodding. “I climbed up a bit of the rock where they met the dead end, displacing some rock, and found a dragon's head shaped recess. Like, it was for a lock or something.”

Aero set his cup down and jumped up from his chair, scurrying around and muttering under his breath. “Can you draw it for me?” He asked, setting down a sheet of parchment and pencil.

“I can try.” You nodded, picking up the pencil and did your best to draw what the dragon's head looked like. “It's horrible, but that's the gist of it.” You told him, watching him lean over the drawing, his arms behind his back.

“I've seen this, before.” He said, softly.

“You have?” You squeaked, looking up at him.

“Yes.” He nodded, picking it up. “Come with me.” He said, over his shoulder, rushing up the stairs to his study.

You followed Aero into his study and stood by his desk as he started scanning through his vast library, pulling out books and scrolls, piling them on his desk. He paused for a moment, made a gesture with his hand, rushed out of the room and across the hall. Leaning back, you could see the room across was furnished with nothing, but floor to ceiling bookcases, up against the wall and free standing. Aero came back with another arm load of scrolls and books, dropping them on the desk with the others.

“This is everything I have on Dragary, Dragirium and Mythological creatures.” He explained, sorting the three subjects into separate piles. “Why don't you look through the Mythological creatures material, you know better what kind of creature you're looking for, than I. I'll look through the Dragary material for any mention of the dragon's head and their mining.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You nodded, picking up the four heavy and leather-bound books and the ten or so scrolls, you made yourself comfortable on the chair in his study, and cracked open the first book.

– –

While you were away, Geralt decided to investigate the catacombs himself. The door was still propped open with the brick from the last time you and he were there, and instead of going left at the crossroads, he decided to go right, feeling the gentle decline as he did, telling him the passageway led downward. The air grew staler and musty, thicker with the scent of decaying bodies. There was sharp bend in the passage, then came out into a room, similar to the one Geralt had found you in, but it wasn't as laden with crypts in the middle of the room. There was also only one other door, on the other side of the room. Going through it, he found it was a very short hallway, that lead to downward spiraling staircase. Taking it, Geralt carefully followed it down. He couldn't tell for sure how far down it had taken him by the time he reached the bottom, but it had to be far, if the air temperature change was anything to go by; it was much colder down there than it had been on the first floor.

The chamber on this level had much fewer buried dead, informing Geralt he was on the third level of the Catacombs. He looked around, finding the doorway to the fourth level and followed that as far as he could, finding the caved in rubble; he could also see the small gap at the top of it, where you had tried squeezing through. Geralt turned his head side to side, taking deep breaths and turned back around, going back to the muddy patch of blood, where Atlas had been killed. He squatted beside it, grimacing, and brow creased in concentration, he took another deep breath. The scent of the catacombs and coagulated blood mixed together, with another scent Geralt couldn't quite pick up on, or identify. He leaned closer to try and get a stronger whiff, when he heard a loud slam from behind him. Getting up and pulling his sword, Geralt spun around with it raised, but saw nothing there. Narrowing his eyes, he took slow measured steps towards where the sound came from, another doorway with a steep incline upwards. Letting out a huff, Geralt moved through the doorway and up, keeping himself on alert. There was another bang before the incline leveled out and opened into a small room.

“Hm.” He grunted, narrowing his eyes and carefully circling the outside edge of the room.

There was only one other doorway out of the room and that was blocked by a iron gate. So, whatever making that noise, couldn't have escaped. Geralt made it to the gate and glanced between the bars, seeing another room full of coffins, but nothing else. He turned, walking down the center of the room, between tall coffins, but again, found nothing that could have made the noise, and he was sure it had come from the room. Pausing, Geralt shook his head and turned back towards the door he'd entered through, he'd just made it to the door, when something unreasonably heavy struck him in the back of the head and he crumbled to the floor.

He woke a while later, his head throbbing with each pulse of his heart. Grunting and sitting up, he pressed a hand to the back of his head, filling the bruised lump there, sticky with blood, and rested back against the wall. He was still in the small room, all intact and unharmed, minus the knock he took. Stretching his neck and rubbing his face, he grabbed his dropped sword and stood up, wobbling on his feet for a moment as his equilibrium swam and tilted at odd angles, trying to right itself. Stumbling out of the room and back up the spiral staircase, Geralt made his way out of the Catacombs and into the fresh night air, he'd been out for some time then, it was still light out when he first entered.

“Witcher, are you well?” Emela asked as Geralt shuffled up the path by her home.

“Something,” He gulped, shaking his head. “attacked me.” he panted, pressing his fingertips into his temples.

“Good mercy!” The old woman exclaimed, moving behind Geralt and seeing the blood caking his white hair. “Come, come inside.” She bid him, taking his arm and pulling him inside, seating him at the dinner table and scurried off into the kitchen.

“What's this, then?” Ethos asked, coming down the stairs. “Geralt.” He frowned at the Witcher, leaning his elbows on the table.

“He was attacked!” Emela told him, coming back into the room, carrying a bowl of water and a cloth.

“Attacked?” Ethos frowned, blinking at the back of Geralt's head. “By who?”

“I don't know.” Geralt hissed through his teeth, as Emela carefully wiped the blood from his hair and wound. “I was investigating the Catacombs, when I heard strange noises and went to investigate. Whatever it was, managed to sneak up on me, and hit me over the head with something.”

“How long were you out?” Emela asked, ringing the cloth out.

“I don't know.” He groaned, gritting his teeth.

“Has y/n already left to speak with her friend?” Ethos asked, rubbing his face.

“She left this afternoon.” Geralt replied, giving Emela a small smile of thanks. “She'll be back as soon as she can be.” He added, knowing that was probably going to be the next question out of the old man's mouth.

“Let's hope she finds something, and you both can put an end to this nonsense.” Emela commented, sighing.

– –

“I've got it!” Aero proclaimed, jumping up out of his chair.

The two of you had read through the materials about the Dragary and Mythological creatures all afternoon and well into the night. Only pausing long enough to get refreshments and food, stretching your legs for a moment or two, then jumping back into it. It was almost noon, the next day, when Aero found what the Dragon's head carving was.

“What is it?” You asked, putting down the scroll you'd been skimming through and rubbing at your strained eyes.

“A lock!” He said, fingers trailing through the lines in the book open on his desk. “You were right, you need a key to open it. It seems that, by this account, from a Dragarian that had been bought off by one of the old kings of Cintra, a man named, Dandren. He informed this king that _all_ Dragarian mines were well and skillfully hidden, and if you didn't know _where_ to look or _how_ to open them, your search would be maddeningly fruitless.” He explained the text to you. “While, Dandren himself, didn't know where the mines were located, his father did, being one of the Dragarian miners for several years, before his death. His father had told him, that you needed a very special key to open them, and that the only people with those keys were the trusted kingdom mine supervisors. He continues by saying, his father had once seen one of the supervisors open the mine he worked in, in a town called, Fangden. The Supervisor had pulled a necklace out of his shirt, with a pendant in the shape of a Dragon's head, fitting it into a similar recess, and the seemingly normal rock face opened up like a door, revealing the mining shaft.”

“How do I get my hands on one of those necklaces, is the new question.” You sighed.

“Did you find anything on your monster?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Not a stitch.” You answered, shaking your head at him. “Does it say anywhere we can find one of those necklaces?”

“Um.” Aero skimmed through the rest of the page and shaking his head, forehead wrinkling. “No.”

“Well, fuck.” You groaned. “What's the point of knowing how to open a door, if you don't have the key to open it with.”

“Not much.” Aero agreed. “Perhaps, you should try investigating their burial sights, one of them could have been buried with one.” He suggested.

“And they're buried where exactly?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Dilosmund, of course.” He replied, like it was obvious.

“Of course, it is.” You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Where is, or was, Dilosmund located?”

“Let me see.” Aero sifted through the piles on his desk, finding one of the scrolls and unrolled it, it was a map of the Dragary kingdom, when it was whole. “Looks like it is located, seventy miles southwest of Midmaw.” He said, tapping its name on the map. “The catacombs should still be there and relatively easy to find. From what I heard, it's the only thing still intact there.”

“How did the survivors kill themselves?” You asked, it suddenly interesting you.

“They dug a large pit, set it on fire and walked into it.” He told you, with a bluntness of a scholar. “They essentially cremated themselves. Since, they believed so highly in Dragons, it was a representation of Dragon Fire.”

“I give them credit for having the balls to die that way.” You huffed, shaking your head at the thought of it.

“As do I.” Aero agreed, rubbing at his stiff neck.

“I should head back to Midmaw.” You said, tying your hair back. “Geralt will want to know about the findings.”

“Of course.” Aero nodded, with a sigh. “If I come across anything that fits the description of your monster, I'll send word.”

“I'd appreciate it.” You yawned. “It was good to see you again, Aero.”

“As was seeing you, y/n.” He smiled back. “Don't make yourself a stranger for another twenty years.”

“I'll try.” You winked at him, amused. “Be well.” You bid him and portalled yourself back to Midmaw. “Geralt?” You called, going into your room at the inn.

“Y/n?” He replied and sat up, gingerly, his head still bothering him.

“What's happened to you?” You frowned, seeing the pained expression on his face. “What have you gone and done.” You sighed, shaking your head at him.

“I was attacked.” He informed you, touching the tender spot on the back of his head.

“Good God.” You gasped, moving behind him and looking at the deep gash on his scalp. “What the hell hit you, a mountain?”

“That's what it feels like.” He huffed, clenching his teeth as your fingertips gently probed around it.

“Did you see what it was?” You asked, going into one of your bags.

“No.” Geralt grunted, watching you. “It snuck up on me, in the Catacombs.”

“You went back down into them?” You frowned, surprised at him and crushed up a few herbs, putting them on to boil in the kettle over the room hearth.

“I was curious.” He admitted, lifting a brow at you. “I was on the third level, when I heard banging coming from a small room there, I didn't find anything, I must have missed it somehow. It ended up smashing in the back of my head, when I went to leave.”

“How long were you out?” You asked, tilting his head up and looking into his eyes.

“An hour, maybe more.” He said, letting you do what you wished. “Emela cleaned me up some.”

“Can't leave you alone for a moment, without you getting yourself hurt.” You teased him, turning back to the kettle and pouring into a mug. “Drink this, it'll help the pain and reduce any swelling and concussion, you might have.” You told him, handing him the cup and laughed at his disgusted expression. “As long as it works, Witcher. As long as it works.” You patted him on the shoulder.

“Did _you_ find anything?” He asked, smacking his lips against the vile taste.

“I didn't find anything about a monster that fits what we know.” You sighed, sitting down on the bed beside him. “Aero did find a passage in a book, talking about a Dragarian that a Cintran King paid off, Dandren, who told him about his father, who was a miner for the Dragary, he'd seen one of the Dragarian mines opened. They apparently were only opened by supervisors that the Dragary Kingdom trusted, with a key, that was actually a pendent on a necklace, in the shape of the Dragon's head we saw at Hammer's Glen.”

“Do we know where to find this necklace pendant?” Geralt asked, blinking at you.

“Aero suggests we check out the catacombs in what was once the Dragary capital, Dilosmund.” You filled him in. “It's seventy miles from here.”

“It seems like we're getting closer to solving the mystery.”

“It does.” You agreed, laying back. “We just still need to find out what the monster is, where it is and how to kill it.” You chuckled. “But, right now, all I want to do is sleep. I haven't since our little nap, before I left.”

“I could do for a good sleep myself.” Geralt agreed, setting his empty mug aside.

“Marvelous.” You sighed, laying correctly on the bed and cuddling into his side, when he laid down beside you.

Geralt closed his arms around you and the both of you were out cold in moments.


	8. The Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a New Moon. The time, when the Creature should attack the village. To try and protect Midmaw, everyone is told to stay inside, while You and Geralt step into the breach, with the creature itself.

Geralt pushed open the shutters of the room's window, letting the cold night air in the stifling room. The cool air wasn't the only thing that came in through the window, the thick anxiety and apprehension came in with it, as well. All of Midmaw was on alert for the creature, it was a new moon, the time the thing should strike again, and everyone in the village had been told to stay inside, for their own safety. You paced the room, while Geralt stood by the open window, ears and eyes on alert for anything out of the norm in the unusually silent village.

“What if it doesn't come?” You asked, suddenly and faltered. “What if it skips phases cause it's full or something? You saw the stash it has in that well.”

“It'll show.” Geralt answered, looking over at you.

“How do you know?” You asked, feeling frenzied and desperate.

“I've been monster hunting for a very long time, love.” Geralt smiled at you, turning his back to the window. “This also helps.” He elaborated and touched his Wolf medallion, then held his hand out for yours. “It'll vibrate, when there's a monster nearby.” He explained, wrapping your hand around it. “You can feel a slight vibration to it now.”

“I can.” You nodded, it was so faint, it felt more like a mild tingle.

“It tells me some type of monster is active, its not close, but it's out there.” He clarified, going to kneel beside one of Roach's saddlebags and pulled out an identical one. “Here.” He stood back up and carefully slipped it over your head, the solid pendant rested against your chest and allowed you to feel the vibration through the fabric of your shirt.

“Aren't only Witchers allowed to wear these?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Traditionally.” He nodded, tracing the tip of his forefinger around the cool edge of your medallion. “But, Witchers can give them to another person, if they so wish it. It's incredibly rare, but it does happen.”

“Have you given one to anyone else?” You asked, curiously.

“No.” He shook his head, an odd tone in his voice. “I thought about it once, but she and I weren't as meant to be, as first thought.”

“I'm sorry.” You whispered, looking at him, softly.

“It's fine.” He smiled, meeting your eye. “It seems it was a good thing that I didn't.” His hand cupped the side of your neck and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Cause then, I wouldn't have been able to give it to you.” He whispered against your skin.

You blushed softly, resting your hands on his sides and leaning in against him. You were quiet for a while, when you felt the sharp vibration of the medallion, making the chain it hung from tremble against the nap of your neck. Both you and Geralt had just pulled apart and looked at each other, as a sharp and shrill screech resonated through the brisk air, making your skin ripple with goosebumps and set your teeth on edge.

“Sounds like our guest of honor has arrived.” You quipped, trying to settle your nerves.

“It would seem so.” Geralt agreed, turning back towards the window. “Hopefully everyone is inside.” He added, carefully leaning out the window and checking the street below, before drawing back in and closing the window. “Are you ready?” he asked, strapping his sword to his back.

“As ready as I'll ever be.” You replied, resting your hand on the pummel of your sword.

“Now, or never.” He said, pulling open the door and heading down to the bar below.

“Preferably, now.” You sighed, following him down the rickety stairs and out into the deserted street.

You stayed close to Geralt, watching his back as he watched your front and carefully made your way over to the Catacombs, seemingly a hot bed for the creature's activities. Emerging from the last of the village buildings and towards the Catacomb's entrance, there was another bone grating screech, making both your and Geralt's sensitive ears throb in response. This shriek was much closer than the first, so either you were moving closer to it, or it was moving closer to you, it was hard to tell which. Geralt glanced at you over his shoulder, lifting a brow at you, to which you simply shrugged. Narrowing his eyes, Geralt moved away from the Catacomb door and a few steps ahead of you, closing his eyes to try and focus on any tell-tale noises. Your head snapped to the left, hearing the rustle of leaves, like something running quickly through the bushes, resting your hand on your sword, you removed it from its sheath and turned towards the sound; Geralt already doing the same. Surrounding the bush, Geralt pushed it aside with the tip of his blade, and your heart jumped into your throat as a young man leaped out, just as startled as you were.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” You demanded, lowering your weapon.

“I wanted to get a look at the monster.” The kid replied, like a caught rabbit.

“Are you stupid?” Geralt growled, shaking his head at him. “That's the easiest way to get yourself killed.” He scolded him. “Go. Home.”

“Now.” You barked, as he opened his mouth to protest. “Such dumb fuckers.” You sighed, rubbing the side of your face.

“It's a wonder, how not more of them haven't been killed.” Geralt grunted in reply. “Come on.” He sighed, moving back towards the Catacombs.

But again, neither of you reached it, before a piercing scream filled the air, very much human this time. Spinning around and sprinting after it, back to the main street of the town, but you arrived there too late, the only thing there was the cap the young man had been wearing and drag marks in the fresh mud.

“Fuck.” Geralt snapped, following the marks into the forest.

There was another shriek from up ahead, followed by another scream of the young man to the left. You frowned at Geralt, confused. Staking his sword into the damp earth, Geralt pulled a small vial out of his pocket, popped the cork and chugged all the black liquid from inside of it, the pupils of his amber-gold eyes expanding the entire width of his eyes. He grabbed his sword again, motioned for you to go left after the kid, while he went straight, after the monster. Nodding, you took off after the sound of the scream, hoping the kid was still alive and in that area. Your ears twitched to the various sounds filling the pitch black forest around you, running feet, rustling leaves and snapping branches, with a new burst of screams, like it was all around you. You rushed through a brush, slipping on a wet patch and the metallic, coppery scent of blood reached your nostrils. A wet gurgling sound reached your ears as you moved farther, it was close and low. You founded it, after stumbling over something, falling to your hands and knees, sword knocked away.

“Hel-elp.” The young man's strangled voice choked at you, his ice cold hand gripping your wrist.

“Ssshhh,” You hushed him, glancing around the dark trees around you. “I'll help, but you must be quiet.” You told him, blindly feeling his body and found the source of the gurgling, he had a deep gash in his throat, and judging by the grotesque wheeze, one of his lungs had been punctured as well. “Did you see what attacked you?” You whispered, finding the circular wound on his left side and carefully eased a finger inside of it, plugging the hole in his lung, so it would reinflate.

“De-De...” He choked, the air passing through the tear in his throat splattering his blood all over your face, neck and clothing, as you leaned closer to hear him. “De-Dev-Dev...” He sputtered, weakly.

“The Devil?” You frowned down at him, not making any sense out of it.

“Y-es.” He whined, nodding slightly. “Ho-horns..” He tried to explain, before suddenly growing quiet.

“No, no-no.” You shook your head, pressing your ear to his bloody chest, but heard no beat of his heart and couldn't feel the suction of his lung around your finger. “Fuck me.” You sighed, body going slack and rested back on your heels, feeling hot tears sting your eyes. “Geralt?” You whispered, hearing a crashing sound behind you.

But, got no answer.

Blindly locating your sword blade in the underbrush, you slowly pushed yourself up and turned on your heels, trying not to make any sudden or quick movements, Geralt's necklace practically sang, it was vibrating so hard. You felt your whole body go cold, realizing that the dark form in front of you, most definitely wasn't Geralt, the silhouette was completely wrong. The stench wafting off the creature was enough to almost knock you over and made your eyes water. It shifted its head, a red glint twinkling in its eyes from the starlight, and took a step forward. You had been correct in your assumption that the creature walked on two legs, long arms hung by its sides, three claws on each, and it most assuredly had horns on the top of its head, but it was no devil; though the description still fit. You gripped your sword, taking slow, quiet and deep breathes, calming your nerves, so it couldn't hear the hard pounding of your heart or smell what fear you might have, you were sure it smelled the kid's blood seeping into the ground, and covering you. It took another step forward and you took a careful one back, stepping over the dead kid's body, your eyes panning around and wondering where the hell Geralt was, and if he was all right. The creature's head snapped upward, as you stepped on a twig, the sharp snap echoing around you.

“Fuck, oh dear.” You whispered, hearing the low, emanating growl from it and the unsettling shine of sharp white teeth.

A split second later, it was charging you. You lifted your sword a moment before it reached you, slicing downward as you twisted and forced yourself back, feeling the meaty impact of your sword striking some section of it, making it howl in agony and anger. You stumbled backwards, but managed to stay upright, planting your feet, and readying yourself for another attack. The creature skidded to a halt, leaning forward heavily and pressing a clawed palm to the long gash, that started at the top of its shoulder, down its side and curved into its back. It looked at you and growled, baring its teeth at you, before running off into the darkness.

“Y/n?” Geralt's voice called from the opposite direction.

“Here, Geralt.” You called back, eyes still on the direction the creature went.

“Are you all right?” He panted, he'd clearly been running.

“I'm fine, that kid isn't though.” You replied, pointing your sword at his body. “I did manage to wound the thing.” You added, lifting your sword and checking out the thick black blood that dripped from it.

“Did you see where it went?” He asked, glancing around.

“Yeah.” You nodded, pointing your sword in the direction.

“Let's go.” Geralt panted, going off to follow it. “I'm guessing, you saw the thing too?”

“Yeah, for the most part.” You nodded, pushing through the brush. “Tall, two legged, claw wielding, horned _devil_.”

Geralt chuckled, pushing the loose strands of his hair out of his face. “That's what I saw.” He stopped suddenly. “Do you know what's up ahead?” He asked, turning his head towards you.

Frowning, you looked around, orienting yourself, and it hit you. “Hammer's Glen.” You said, slowly with realization.

“It's about a mile farther.” Geralt clarified, nodding his head, gripping the handle of his sword tighter. “So far, all of your assumptions of the thing are correct.” He whispered, checking every thing you went passed.

“Eerily so.” You whispered back, nodding your head and glanced up at a hooting owl. “I'll check this side, why don't you check the other?” You suggested as you entered the old boundary of Hammer's Glen.

Geralt nodded his head and broke off from you, being careful of where he set his foot down as he vanished into the darkness. You kept your head on a swivel, investigating any subtle noise or odd shadow, but there seemed to be no sign of the beast. Following your gut instinct, you made your way down to where you believed the hidden mine entrance was, finding the black blood trail in the rocky dust, leading straight to it.

“Bingo.” You smirked, but were a bit dismayed to find the entrance closed. “Where are you, you little shit.” You huffed, wrapping a hand around the wolf medallion; it still had a hum to it.

You walked down the covered cart tracks, trying to find any other signs of it. You didn't need to go far before you felt a heaviness crash into you, knocking you to the ground and sending your sword spiraling into the darkness. Your adrenaline peaked, feeling the clammy hand wrap around your ankle, the tip of its claws pressing into your skin as it started slowly pulling you backwards; back towards the hidden mine shaft. You dug your fingers into the ground, trying to get a hold of something to leverage yourself out of its grasp, but the earth just crumbled and came away around your fingers. Catching a quick glimpse of a broken tree root, you made a grab for it, just narrowly getting a hold of it, making the creature yank on your leg. Using your new advantage, you pulled back your free foot and kicked it out, hoping in the right direction, before hearing the sickening crunch of bone as your foot connected with its face. With it stunned, you rolled onto your back, throwing out the first three fingers of your right hand and released your Aard, sending the thing backward, its claws scrapping your ankle, as it was forced to let go. The creature recovered quickly and launched itself at you again, giving you just barely enough time to throw up a Quen, deflecting it away from you, and using up the Quen's charge.

“Geralt!” You screamed, watching the creature rise a second time, shaking its head.

Without your sword, the only protection you had, was your Magic. You struggled to your feet, pushing your arms out in front of you, your palms forward with your fingertips curled into your palms, a blue light shimmered between your fingers and around your hands, as you charged up a battle spell; funneling a lot of your Chaos into it. You shouted out the spell in Elder, pushing your right hand out and pulling your left hand back to your side, with the blast, a blinding white light flared around you and the creature, lighting up the surrounding forest like mid-afternoon. You squeezed your eyes shut and held the spell for a moment, before exhausting it and your Chaos, dropping to a knee, spent and blood dripping from your nose. Shaking your head and blinking hard at the flashing spots in your eyes, you looked up for the monster, but saw it nowhere.

“Fuck.” You heard Geralt bark from behind you, the clang of him dropping his sword and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you up to your feet and supporting you. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I don't think so.” You panted, resting heavily against him and looked down at your ankle and seeing a bit of blood staining your leggings. “I'm fine.” You sighed, so exhausted. “Where did it go?” You asked, blinking.

“I don't know.” He grunted, looking around. “Your spell whited everything out, so I didn't see where it ran off too.” He told you, turning his attention back to you. “It doesn't matter right now, you do.” He rested you back against the trunk of a nearby tree and picked up his sword, sheathing it.

After several minutes of searching, Geralt found your sword under a bush and in a pile of leaves, he sheathed it for you. You wrapped your arm around his waist and let him support you back towards Midmaw, the sun slowly coming up over the horizon. The whole town was out in the street, when you and Geralt finally made it back, you could hear the wailing of someone amid the crowd, and could only guess, it was the family member of the boy that had snuck out, and got himself killed.

“Witcher, y/n.” Ethos greeted you, giving you both a once over, covered in blood, dirt, mud and dead leaves. “Did you kill the beast?”

“No.” You groaned, your body throbbing. “Gave it our level best, though.”

“What is it?” Someone asked from the crowd.

“We still have no idea.” Geralt answered, carefully setting you down on a bench outside the inn. “It was too dark to get a proper look at it. But, it's two legged, claws and horns.”

“The devil.” Was murmured by many.

“It's not the Devil.” Geralt huffed, shaking his head at their ignorance.

“How are you sure, if you didn't get a good enough look.” Someone else barked. “You said yourself, you didn't.”

“If it _was_ the devil, we would have _said_ it was the devil.” You grunted, far too tired and in pain to deal with such stupidity.

A sobbing woman pushed through the crowd, looking at you with her red and swollen eyes. “Did you see my boy?” She asked, voice shaky and weak. “Did you see my boy, Callum? He snuck out in the night.”

You looked up at Geralt and closed your eyes. “Yes.” You answered her, not opening your eyes again. “We found him creeping around the Catacombs, and told him to go back home. But, it was no use. The creature attacked him, on his way back.” You sighed, images of his boy's body flashing through your mind. “I did my best to care for him, but, he died of his wounds.”

The woman's wails pierced the air, Emela moved forward to comfort her, grabbing her before she fell to the ground, hysterical. The village people shifted and mumbled uncomfortable and at a loss of what else to do.

“What's your next move, y/n?” Ethos asked you.

“I'm unsure.” You sighed again, rubbing at the spots of Callum's blood that was still caked into your skin. “We need to rest and regroup.” You said, looking at Geralt, who nodded, agreeing. “Then, we'll go from there. We have a week until the next phase, it's plenty of time to figure out our next plan.” You groaned, pulling yourself up onto your feet. “We'll let you know, when we come up with it.” You called over your shoulder, going inside the inn and up to your room.

“Let me see your leg.” Geralt said, sitting you down on the bed.

You rolled up your legging and held out the leg the creature had gotten a hold of. The claw marks were nothing more than scratches, but Geralt cleaned them with clean water, then helped you out of your soiled clothing. You took the wet cloth from him, cleaning away the dried blood from your face, neck and hands, then put on a clean shirt and pair of leggings. Geralt cleaned himself up and changed into clean clothing, before going downstairs to fetched a plate of food, a tankard of ale, for himself, and a tankard of your favorite mead.

“An attentive Witcher.” You teased him, sitting down at the small table in the room with him, sipping your mead and sharing the plate of food with him. “What do _you_ want to do now, Geralt?” You asked him, popping a bit of cheese and bread in your mouth.

“I think, we should rest.” He answered, taking a quick gulp of ale. “Then, go and check out Dilosmund, tomorrow. That creature vanished into, seemingly, thin air. Though, I doubt it vanished, as much as it accessed that mine, to escape.”

“It's the only viable reason.” You agreed, nodding your head. “If we can find that key to the mine and get in it, then we stand a better chance of getting rid of it.”

– –

It wasn't hard to finding Dilosmund, the two stone pillars that acted as the front gate into it, still stood, the overgrown and broken fountain in the middle of the equally overgrown square. The farther in the ghost city, the more eerie it felt, you came across a tall stone monument with a plaque on it.

 _May my charred flesh appease our merciful God, Dilos, and make amends for our sightless actions_.

You read it out loud, feeling a heaviness wash over you, realizing the odd indented earth in front of the monument, was actually where the survivors of the Dragary killed themselves. You looked at Geralt and saw he had the same feeling.

“I'm guessing, this is the entrance to their Catacombs.” You said, circling around sunken rock structure and to the front, finding the broken and hanging door into it.

“It is.” Geralt answered, stepping down the broken steps and grabbing the door, yanking it off its last remaining rusted out hinge. “Here goes nothing.” He groaned, ducking inside.

“If there are any Gods listening,” You said, looking up at the wintry gray sky. “please allow us to find this key, aid us in stopping this monstrous beast and protecting those that are innocent.” You closed your eyes for a moment, before crawling into the catacombs, after Geralt.


	9. Dilosmund

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Geralt investigate the catacombs in Dilosmund for the Dragon Head key. But, you don’t leave the Catacombs the same person you went in as.

Despite being abandoned for so long, the Dilosmund catacombs were still in reasonable shape, especially compared to Midmaw's. You followed behind Geralt, glancing at the artwork decorating the walls, some were carvings in the natural limestone, others were made out of the bones of the dead.

“Do you have any clue, where in this place, we're supposed to be looking for the necklace?” Geralt asked you over his shoulder.

“Sadly, no.” You sighed, stopping to examine one of the open corpses, and saw nothing. “But, if the Dragary revered their mine supervisors so much, that they only entrusted them with the keys, then they'll more than likely be buried in the wealthier section of the Catacombs.” You explained. “That's if they're anything like how other societies that bury their dead.” You added, sounding a bit skeptical.

“And how do we identify that?” Geralt asked, stopping and turning sideways to look at you.

“Well,” You pressed your lips together. “In Kovir, for instance, they bury their dead in open marble caskets. Cintra buries theirs in Quartzite, and Nilfgaard buries theirs in red Sandstone. All based on what the precious stone is, in their region.”

“What stone would that be for the Dragary?” Geralt pondered, glancing around.

“Limestone.” You said, touching the wall beside you. “and Granite.” You added, picking a small chunk of it off the floor, at your feet, and showed it to him.

“So, we're looking for a level that's largely Limestone and Granite.” He said, letting out a hard breath.

“Yep.” You nodded, rubbing your face.

You and Geralt carried on into the bowels and recesses of the catacombs, stopping to check every coffin or corpse that seemed of interest, but had still found nothing of promise. Going deeper, you hit a snag, when you found a large Granite slab, blocking the doorway into the lower levels. Geralt made you take several steps back, then used his Aard to break it down, the noise thundering through the narrow hallway, spewing dust and rock everywhere. Smirking and rolling your eyes at him, you stepped through the opening and took several steps, before slipping down a steep decline, and splashing into a stagnate body of water.

“Ugh, fucking fabulous.” You grunted and stood up, the water reaching your knees. “Watch the way down!” You called up to Geralt. “ _Aine_.” You whispered, illuminating the room and saw that the walkway had collapsed at some point.

“You all right?” Geralt asked, carefully coming down.

“Other than being drenched in foul dead people water, I'm great.” You deadpanned, making Geralt smirk.

“Seems an aquifer burst through the wall over there.” He pointed to the crumbled section of wall to the left.

“That's comforting.” You replied and trudged through the water, the small orb of light you summoned follow you, over the surface of the water. “I think, we're close.” You called out to him, seeing damaged coffins made of rough stone, limestone and granite.

You searched the open coffins, while Geralt pushed open the lids of the closed ones. You moved to a room adjacent, the water going up to your mid thighs, as you moved through it and started searching through the coffins in there. The lid of one coffin was pushed almost sideways, and you peaked inside, catching the flickering glint of metal from your weakening orb of light. You squeezed your hand into the small gap and grabbed it, your fingers closed around it, feeling the outline of it.

“Geralt, I got it!” You yelled out to him, trying to tug the braided leather strap free. “Shit!” You barked, feeling something inside of the coffin grasp your wrist.

“Y/n?” Geralt's voice echoed back to you, the quick splashing of him moving as fast as he could to reach you.

“Something has my fucking hand!” You told him, struggling against it.

Geralt hadn't made it halfway to you, when a, nails on a chalkboard, wail reverberated through the air, making your vision swim and your skull feel like it was being crushed. The Wolf medallion swaying around your neck started to really vibrate on its chain. You looked up at Geralt with wide eyes, both of you silently communicating with each other. _Wraith_. He waded the rest of the way to you, planted his hands on the lid of the coffin and pushed it open more, allowing the reanimated corpse to sit up some. Geralt wasted no time, as another of the Wraith's screams reached you, closer this time, grabbing the corpse's head and twisting it around so far, it ripped off, making it go slack and dropped back to the bottom of the coffin. With it's head gone, it was easier for you to removed the necklace and pry its mummified hand from around your wrist. You dropped the necklace around your neck and twisted around, just as the Wraith breezed into the room, floating over the surface of the water, making it gently ripple.

“Shall we leave before we become the next set of corpses in this place?” You asked, eyes never leaving Wraith's.

“It would be rather nice.” Geralt agreed, his stance already in anticipation of a fight.

“One portal to the surface, at your service, Sir Witcher.” You said and grabbed a hold of Geralt's arm, focusing, and portalled you both out of the catacombs. “Undead and Wraiths, how exciting.” You panted, out of breath from your Magic use.

“Just another day as Witcher.” Geralt retorted, tugging his boots off and draining the water out of them. “You get use to it.” He added, giving you a playful smirk.

“I'm sure.” You chuckled back, removing the necklace from around your neck. “At least, we found what we were looking for.” You said, holding the necklace out to Geralt.

He took the necklace from you and examined it. “It always amazes me, how the smallest and simplest of things, cause the greatest of problems.” He said, weighing it in the palm of his hand.

“Well, the smallest of thing can throw off the whole balance of the world, especially if it's the right type of small thing.” You concurred, taking it back from him and putting it back around your neck. “Now, where did I port us too?” You sighed, looking around for anything familiar that could distinguish where you and Geralt were.

Geralt glanced around, then let out a loud whistle, and a minute or two later, Roach appeared to the east of you. “Not far, it would seem.” He said, grabbing the Bay's reins.

“That's convenient.” You laughed, getting up on Roach behind him.

“I've lost sight of my horses more than once, in my lifetime.” He replied, turning Roach the way she approached. “So, I make a point to teach each of them to come to me with a whistle. Though, it only works if they're close enough to hear it.” He added.

“I should teach Shadow that.” You said, resting forward against Geralt's back. “I don't really lose sight of him, but sometimes the little cur runs off.”

“He spook easy?” Geralt asked.

“No, he's just a drama queen.” You huffed, amused. “He can stand and behave as if a monster isn't right next to him, but the second he thinks something is going to get that _luxurious_ coat of his dirty, he'll run right off; complaining and protesting the whole time.”

Geralt laughed, shaking his head. “Roach doesn't much care for being bothered with such trivial things herself. But, Shadow is a Friesian horse, so it doesn't surprise me, he gets upset about his looks. Though, Shadow is still a very friendly and stoic.”

“I am aware, the two of you get on rather well.” You smiled at him over his shoulder, you'd caught the Witcher more than once admiring Shadow and talking to him, sneaking him an apple or two. “I'm surprised Roach isn't jealous.”

“Oh, she's made her disapproval of it known, many times.” Geralt laughed, patting the side of Roach's neck. “It's getting a bit dark.” He said, looking up at the sky. “We'll keep on for a while, then make camp.”

“All right.” You nodded, resting your cheek against the back of his shoulder.

You traveled for an hour, before dismounting Roach and making camp. Geralt build a fire and you pulled out the bit of food you had packed for the journey, then unrolled a blanket and spread it over the ground, giving you and Geralt somewhere comfortable and clean to sleep. For whatever reason, you couldn't keep yourself from touching the dragon's head as it rested against the fabric of your shirt, like touching it gave you some kind of reassurance, feeling drawn to it. But, you fell asleep spooned into Geralt, enveloped by the intense heat of his big body, blanketing you against the chilled winter air. Geralt woke with a loud snort from Roach, the Bay stomping and pawing at the frozen ground. He rolled onto his back, but didn't see you on the blanket beside him and sat up, scanning the surrounding area. He caught a glimpse of your white shirt and got up to follow you, confused on what you were doing. You walked through the trees, like a beautiful ghost, unaware of Geralt's presence following close behind you, and stopped suddenly, just before you stepped off the edge of a very steep cliff.

“Y/n?” Geralt called your name, softly, not wanting to startle you and have you fall, frowning as he heard you speaking in some strange language. “Y/n.” He repeated your name, stepping closer to you and carefully grabbing the back of your arm and pulling you away from the edge. “What's going on with you?” He asked, turning you around and took a sharp breath, seeing your eyes.

Your normal silver colored eyes had morphed, shining like highly polished silver, but your round pupils were slits, like that of a cat's. He looked down at your hand, seeing it wrapped around the dragon's head pendant and looked back up into your eyes. Your pupils weren't narrow like a cat's, they were narrow like a _Dragon_ 's. Geralt yanked the necklace from around your neck and out of your hand, making you waver for a moment and blink rapidly, before your eyes returned to normal and you snapped out of whatever trance or state you were in.

“Geralt?” You frowned, looking around and realizing neither of you were at camp. “What are we doing out here?”

“You were sleepwalking.”Geralt answered. “With this.” He held up the necklace. “You were speaking in some strange language as well, and your eyes and pupils were like a Dragon's.”

“What?” You snapped, stunned and confused.

“There's something about this pendant that changed you.” He said, studying it. “It's quite strange. Would your friend, Aero, know anything about this?” He asked, concerned.

“He might.” You answered, quietly, feeling strange.

“We should see him in the morning.” Geralt replied, lifting a brow at you and pocketed the pendant, he didn't feel easy about giving it back to you, and could plainly see that it bothered you that he didn't. “Come, let's rest some more.” He said, gently taking your hand and leading you back to the bed roll.

You let him guide you back to camp and laid down with him again, bothered by the incident.

– –

In the morning, you and Geralt traveled to Pont Vanis and visited Aero at his home.

“Ah!” Aero grinned. “I'm glad to see you taking my advice on not being a stranger, and this must be your Witcher.” He greeted Geralt, warmly.

“I have an issue, Aero.” You told him, getting to the point.

“Oh?” The Elf frowned, tilting his head at you. “What issue would that be?”

“This.” Geralt said, holding up the pendant. “We found it in the Dilosmund Catacomb, where you suggested it could be. But, the issue is, it changed y/n.”

Aero fixed his eyes on you and blinked. “She seems the same to me.”

“Minus the fact, I want to snatch it from him and horde it for myself.” You elaborated, eyes on the dragon's head.

“And it changed her eyes.” Geralt added.

“Changed her eyes, how?”

“They were the same color, but her pupils were slits, like a Dragon's would be.” Geralt explained, letting the Elf take the necklace from him. “She nearly sleep walked off the edge of a cliff, in the process.”

Aero frowned, studying the pendant, then handed it to you. You felt an odd relief getting it back, squeezing your hand around it, hugging it against your chest. It wasn't long afterwards, that your pupils grew incredibly small, like a pinpoint, then extended into a thin line slit, startling Aero. He managed to take it back from you, and your eyes returned to normal.

“Oh, dear.” He mewled, eyes wide.

“What is it?” Geralt demanded, not liking his expression.

“I didn't-It can't be.” Aero mumbled to himself. “But, it has to be.”

“Aero, mumbling.” You snapped, softly.

Aero put up a finger. “I think,...No, let me make sure.” He turned on his heels and went upstairs to his library.

“Is that normal?” Geralt asked you, following him up.

“He's a scholar.” You replied, like it answered Geralt's question.

You made it into Aero's study, to find him pushing books and scrolls around his messy desk, pausing long enough, every now and then, to skim through a scroll or flip through a book. It was several minutes until he seemed to find whatever it was he was looking for. He scoured through the book and mumbled more to himself, picked up another book and kept going back and forth between the two. You and Geralt stood impatiently beside his desk, watching him the whole time.

“It is what I feared, well, not feared, per-say.” He finally addressed the two of you. “It's rather thrilling and incredible.”

“That's easy for you to say.” You huffed, shaking your head.

“What did you find?” Geralt added, annoyed.

“It seems, y/n here, is a Dragarian.” Aero, finally, announced.

“What!?” You shouted, resting your palms against his desk. “You said, all of them either died in that dragon attack, or killed themselves! How the hell am _I_ one of them, if that's the case?” You demanded, flabbergasted at the news.

“According to this account.” Aero explained, tapping his finger against the page. “Only a Dragarian, can be affected by this.” He held up the necklace. “It's imbued the Dragarian Magic, magic only the Dragary are capable of, and affected by. Well, Dragary Magic affects anyone, like any normal Magic. But, the type of Magic in this, only affects a Dragarian, the way it affects you. As you can see, Geralt and I can openly hold it in our bare hands, and it doesn't affect us at all. But, the moment you touched it, that change comes over you.”

“Why?” You demanded, feeling dizzy. “Why, does it affect me like that? I get the Magic, but, to that specific affect.”

“There's a myth, legend or fable, what have you. That says, that Dragarians were once actually dragons.” He replied, sitting down. “The story goes; that a male dragon made a deal with Dilos, to be allowed to have a human-like body, after having seen humans and being curious to what it would be like. He kept almost all of his abilities he had as a dragon and went about the Continent, experiencing life as would a human.”

You and Geralt both seated yourselves across from him. “And?” You asked.

“Well, the tale continues.” He continued. “Dragons are known for their hording tendencies, so he horded a large portion of gold, and built a home close to where he originally lived as a Dragon, near the Dragon Mountains. But, as time grew on, he became lonely, and went looking for a mate. He met a female dragon, they fell in love and she asked Dilos to do for her, what he had done for the male, and he granted it for her. They married and established themselves.” He rubbed his chin. “Several other dragons, seeing the life they lived, asked Dilos to change them, and over time the changed Dragons had families and the kingdom of Dragary was created.”

“So, they're the descendants of Dragons.” You summed up, finding it hard to believe, but everything you had been going through lately, it didn't seem as far fetched as it should have. “How does that explain, me being affected, if there aren't supposed to be any left?”

“Well, perhaps the account of them all committing suicide was wrong.” Aero replied, frowning. “Your parents could have been Dragarian, decided to leave the kingdom to live elsewhere, for some reason, so they survived the attack and didn't kill themselves, but they covered up what they were, for whatever reason.” He sighed, looking at you, softly. “or the people you considered your parents, weren't.”

That hit you like a boulder to the chest, either your parents lied to you about your heritage, or they lied to you about your parentage, and you'd never figure out which, since they were both dead. Geralt frowned, worried and sympathetic, resting his hand on your leg.

“So, I'm possibly, the last of _my kind_.” It felt so beyond strange to say it, then you looked up at Aero. “Do you think this creature could have something to do with the Dragary? It has to have a pendant to get into the mine, it could be affected by it as well.”

“It is possible.” He agreed. “But, whatever it is, its not a humanoid, or at least, it isn't a humanoid any longer.” He clarified.

“So, I'm the descendant of Dragons.” You sighed, shaking your head and sarcastic. “Fucking lovely.”

“It could explain your unique capabilities with Magic.” Aero replied, he'd always found your ability to wield and control Magic strange, many had; it came much more naturally, and almost effortless to you, you could maintain and sustain your Chaos better than nearly every Mage you had met.

“Did the Dragary have their own language?” Geralt asked, still curious about the strange language you'd spoken in, the night before, and was now much more interested in knowing, if that's what you'd been speaking.

“Quite.” Aero nodded, picking up a scroll on his desk and handing it to Geralt.

“Can you read this?” Geralt asked you, unrolling it and handing it to you.

“I doubt it.” You replied, taking it from him and looking it over. At first, it seemed like a bunch of jumbled marks, but they quickly made sense to you, startling you even farther. “ _The place between then and now; is that now is happening, and then is out of our reach_...” You read the top line of it, making Aero's mouth drop open.

“It took me nearly three decades to translate that, and you did it in five seconds.” He said, sounding jealous and surprised, at the same time. “This only reaffirms my belief of your heritage, y/n.”

“How would I not know, I knew this language?” You asked, carefully setting the scroll down at the edge of his desk.

“You could have known it at a much younger age, and as time went by, you used it so little, you consciously forgot about it, but subconsciously you still remember.” Geralt replied, a deep crease between his brows.

“I agree.” Aero nodded.

“I don't know, if I like this.” You sighed, rubbing your face, it was a lot to process.

“Well, it's not like your any different than you have been.” Aero tried to soothe you. “You've just been unaware of your full potential and nature. We all have something inside of us, we are unaware is there, until the right circumstances happen. Trying to defeat this creature, is just yours.”

“So, what do I do?” You asked him, tired. “If I touch the thing, I apparently go all _dragonkin_ about it.”

“I believe, the episode you had last night, was a simple combination of your genetic reaction and being asleep. When you did it downstairs you were perfectly fine, _mostly_. So, as long as you don't touch it in a sleep state, you'll be able to control it.”

“We don't even know what all of _it_ is.” Geralt pointed out. “We both took it from her, before we could discover the full affect of it.”

“That is also true.” Aero conceded, biting his lip.

“I don't feel like finding out.” You cut Aero off, seeing the expression on his face and in his eyes. “All I need is to turn into a full blown dragon in the middle of Kovir. People can't stand what they don't get already, and a person turning into a Dragon, is the very last thing they'll understand.”

“Again, also true.” the Elf nodded, conflicted. “It's all very new and strange, to be put simply.”

“At least, you two woke up knowing who you are.” You sighed. “I get to fall asleep, wondering who I am.”

“You're still you, y/n.” Geralt told you, squeezing your thigh. “Finding all this out, isn't going to change any of that. People find out about their heritage everyday and are still the same as they were before.”

“I doubt any of them found out they could be related to Dragons, or a society that's supposed to be extinct.” You deadpanned, looking him in the eye. “But, you are still right. I still feel, more or less, myself.” You sighed, leaning back against your chair. “We still need to investigate that mine and learn more about that creature, though.”

“And now that we have the pendant, it'll be a sight easier.” Geralt agreed with you.


	10. True Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After discovering your true heritage from Aero, you and Geralt travel back to Midmaw, to delve into the mine at Hammer’s Glen. Finding out what the creature is, and you find out just what the necklace does to you.

“I just want it back.” You replied, holding your hand out to Geralt, for the necklace.

“That's because you wanna horde it.” Geralt answered, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“It is much too soon for that joke to be funny, _mutant_.” You countered, annoyed.

Geralt smirked even more at you. “Luckily, that joke _is_ old enough to be funny.” He laughed, amused.

“Just give it back, Geralt.” You demanded, wiggling your fingers at him. “You heard Aero, I should be able to control it.”

“While, you're awake.” He countered, his amusement turning into concern.

“I _am_ awake.” You huffed at him.

“I don't know, y/n.” He sighed, tightening his hand around it. “We don't know, what all it'll do to you.”

“It only affects me, if it touches my skin.” You sighed back, rubbing your face. “It'll be between my shirts, so it won't be touching me, and we're going to find out what the damn thing does to me, sooner or later, and I'd rather it not sneak up on me again.” You reasoned with him. “If something gets out of control, you can take it back from me.” You promised, you understood and shared his concern, but the powerful want to have it, was slightly stronger.

“I'm taking it back, before we go to sleep.” He warned you, slipping it over your head.

“That's only fair.” You nodded, hiding it between your shirt and undershirt. “Ethos is going to want to know what we found. What do you suggest we tell the old bat?” You asked, as you crossed the Midmaw bridge.

“Nothing.” Geralt replied, he still didn't trust Ethos. “We tell him we found nothing, especially nothing about your ancestry.”

“I still don't know, if I believe that myself.” You sighed, stroking the dragon's head.

“If the old man wishes to hide something from us, we don't have to tell him what we know.” He added, looking around the main street of the village with a suspicion. “Let's get something proper to eat, then we'll go back to Hammer's Glen.” He whispered into your ear, as you walked into the Inn.

“Hector!” You shouted to the Innkeeper. “Mead, ale and food!” You demanded, making him grunt and roll his eyes at you, but he did as you asked. “So, we want to try going down the mine?” You whispered, leaning over the table towards Geralt. “Or, are we just seeing if the key fits?”

“Well, if it fits, and the thing opens, then I say, we give the mine a quick look.” He answered, rubbing at the crease between his brows. “Hopefully, the thing hibernates between phases.”

“That just sounds like you jinxed our chances of not running into it.” You laughed, leaning back as Hector set your meal and drinks down. “But, I'm sure we'll be fine. Your Silver and my Magic, we should be able to get rid of the thing.”

– –

You felt your body hum in anticipation of opening the mining shaft in Hammer's Glen, the closer you and Geralt got to it. You could feel Geralt's body doing something of the same as you came into sight of the abandoned forge and well. Pausing for a moment, you glanced down the well and was shocked to find it empty.

“Well, we know that it puts its victims down the well as a way to feed itself between phases.” You commented, looking back at Geralt as he secured Roach.

“Good to know.” He replied, glancing down the well.

Deciding to stop wasting time and daylight, You and Geralt trudged down to where the mine entrance should be and you removed the necklace, giving Geralt a quick look to see if he was ready, then carefully fit the pendant in the slot carved into the stone, giving it a turn. The rock face beside the lock, rumbled and shook, scree falling as the mountain face moved back and up, revealing the dark passageway. Drawing his sword, Geralt stepped through the doorway, on high alert. You pulled the necklace from the slot and put it back around your neck, following after him, and ready to summon a spell, if need be. The place was dark and drafty, smelling heavily of earth, minerals and mold; it was cold and eerily silent, minus the steady dripping of water, and god knows what else. You came to a cross-way, a shaft going right and a shaft going left, considering it for a moment, Geralt turned on his heels and scouted down the left passageway, leaving you waiting at the cross section. You stood uneasily as you waited for him, the only visible part of him was the shine of his white hair, your skin rippled with a strange feeling and you mindlessly grabbed for Wolf medallion, but it only had the faintest of vibration to it, nothing like the strange feeling your body had.

“Shit!” Geralt suddenly cried out.

“Geralt?” You called back, moving towards him.

“Stay back!” He yelled, his voice sounding muffled.

You frowned, “ _Aine_.” You illuminated the passageway and found that the floor had gave way under Geralt's weight, dropping him to the level below. “Are you all right?” You called down to him, minding your steps.

“I'm fine.” He grunted, frustrated and looking up and down the passageway he'd fallen into.

“I think, something is coming, Geralt.” You told him, that ripple through your body grew stronger.

“Wha-”

A screech reverberated through the stone passageway, but you couldn't tell if it was on your level, Geralt's or else where in the mine. Geralt looked up at you, eyes startled, the screech came again, closer this time. He twisted around, seeing a dark shadow bolt across the other end of the passageway, then come back, blocking that end of the way out.

“Geralt.” You whispered, slowly bending down and picking up his sword, having dropped it in his fall, and carefully lowered it down to him. “I'll find another way down to you.” You told him, carefully backing away and turned to race down the other passageway.

Geralt lifted his sword, pointing it at the creature. The creature didn't move for a long moment, before rushing Geralt with surprising speed, Geralt used what little room there was in the passage to swing at the monster, but it dodged out of the way, it's shoulder connecting with Geralt's and sent the Witcher sailing backwards, knocking his sword out of his hands again, with the force of the blow. Geralt grunted as his back hit the ground, knocking some of the air out of his lungs. Looking back, Geralt saw this end of the shaft opened into a vaulted room, and quickly scrambled to his feet and made for it, needing more room to fight and maneuver around the creature's attacks. He just barely managed to throw himself sideways as the creature lunged at him again, watching it fly into the room and land on its hands and feet, howling in anger, at missing Geralt. Straightening up, Geralt dug into his pouch for one of his potions, only to find they'd been smashed in his ensuing falls.

“Fuck.” He grunted, turning his attention back to the monster.

The creature carefully paced in front of him, sizing him up, before lunging at him again, claws out. Geralt moved to the side, hissing as one of the creature's claws sliced through the fabric of his shirt, between the leather armor he wore, and into his arm. The creature used this leverage to grab Geralt's arm, shoving him against the wall and wrapping its other clawed hand around his neck, pushing him up and pinning him to the wall, with startling strength. Geralt did his best to struggle against the creature, but it didn't seem to register any of his punches or kicks, only increasing the pressure around his throat and making his vision swim. Giving up on using his fists, Geralt struggled for the dagger in his boot, just managing to grab it and stab it into the creature's shoulder, but it still didn't let go of him. It only seemed to piss it off even more, pressing its thumb claw to the soft spot of Geralt's throat, sneering at him, it slowly pressed its claw in, a long bead of blood dripped down Geralt's pale skin.

You felt hopelessly lost, but the strange feeling that kept rippling through your body felt like a strange compass, telling you what doors to go through and what hallways to take, until you came out into the vaulted room, the monster and Geralt had been sparing in, finding it had pinned Geralt to the wall and was trying to slowly puncture his throat. Your fear and adrenaline spiked, but something else entirely came over of you, and you shouted something in Dragary at the creature, gaining its attention. It's eyes settled on you, it let Geralt go and turned towards you, your eyes going wide as it moved towards you.

“What did you just say to it?” Geralt coughed, pressing a hand to his throat.

“I have no fucking clue,” You replied, moving back. “I just really hope, I didn't insult its mother.” You added, nervously trying to make light. “I'm just going to run now.” You said, twisting around and taking off the way you came, the creature screamed in response and chased after you.

“Y/n!” Geralt yelled after you, pushing himself up and running after both of you.

You ran down the passageway, the hair on the nap of your neck standing up as you felt the creature moving in closer, the crawl of your skin as its claw reached out, inches from your neck. You took a sharp turn, making the creature have to double back for you as you passed through another vaulted room. You ran for one of the other doors, only to find it caved in and it was too late to try for the other one, the creature was already well into the room, blocking your way to either of them. You panted hard, out of breath and spent, you hardly jerked your head back as it took a swipe at you, the very tip of its claw grazing the side of your neck, making you stumble and fall backwards. It was poised to pounce on you, when a shockwave pulsed behind it, launching it over you and into one of the wooden stilts holding up the chambers ceiling, breaking it in half. You quickly rolled to the side as a large chunk of the ceiling broke loose above you and slammed to the floor where you'd been laying; several more of the wooden stilts splintered and gave under the weight.

“Go, Geralt!” You yelled, staggering to your feet. “That way!” You pointed to the other door. “That's the way out!” You panted, dodging another falling bit of ceiling.

Geralt ran the doorway, but stopped and turned towards you. “Come on, y/n!” He barked, holding his hand out to you.

“Just go!” You barked, looking back at the creature, as it struggled up itself.

“I'm not leaving without you!” Geralt snapped, shaking his head.

“Yes, you are.” You snapped back, throwing your hand and using your Aard on him, shoving him through the doorway and back against the wall on the other side, knocking him senseless.

You glanced up at the crumbling ceiling and made a dive for the other passageway, the creature doing the same. Geralt shook his head and scrambled to his feet, intent on following after you, but he didn't move two steps before the last stilt shattered and the rest of the ceiling of the room caved, burying the the doorway shut, and no other way to get back in.

“No!” Geralt screamed, digging and throwing aside rock, trying to uncover the passageway and reach you again, but quickly realized how pointless it was, the entire room would be buried in rubble. “Y/n!” He yelled, racing down the other end of the hallway, trying to find another way around to you, but there was no other way around to you, he only found himself back where he'd fallen through. “You stupid woman!” He roared at the top of his lungs, kicking at his discarded blade, still laying where he dropped it.

Snatching up his sword, Geralt wound his way back out of the mine, stomping and angrily mumbling to himself about how stupid, silly and senseless you were for what you did. He jerked himself up into Roach's saddle and raced back to Midmaw and to Ethos's home, he didn't trust the old man, but he needed help to save you.

“Witcher?” Ethos barked as Geralt just barged in the door. “What's the meaning of this?”

“Y/n is in danger.” Geralt barked. “We found a way into the Hammer Glen mine and went in, we discovered the creature.”

“You what?” Ethos snapped, surprised.

“You heard me, old man.” Geralt growled, sneering. “There was a cave in, and she's still in the mine.”

“How did you get out then?”

“She used her Aard to shove me through a passageway before the full collapse happened.” He explained, pacing restlessly.

“That stupid girl.” Ethos sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. “That stupid, stupid girl. I should have known she'd do something this stupid.” He rambled, agitated. “I should have never told her about her people, I knew she'd go digging it up.”

Geralt halted, looking at him “What did you just say?”

“Nothing, never mind an old man's ramblings.” Ethos replied, brushing it off.

Geralt grabbed Ethos by the shirt and slammed him against the wall, his feet dangling. “I knew, you've been hiding something, you shitling.” He sneered, upper lip twitching with a snarl. “What did you say about _her people_?” he demanded, his fists tightening in Ethos's shirt.

“I-” He tried to make an excuse, but Geralt slammed him harder against the wall. “I've known she's a Dragarian!” He squeaked, frightened.

“For how long!”

“All her life!” Ethos shook, gray eyes wild with fear.

Geralt turned, still holding Ethos and tossed him into the chair he'd been sitting in, when he barged in. “Out with it, before I disembowel you.” He growled, pressing his foot on the chair between Ethos's legs, so he couldn't run.

“I knew y/n, when she was a child.” Ethos huffed, trapped. “Though, she doesn't remember me, she was just a wee thing, when she was sent away to the couple on that farm in Marnadal.” He explained, unable to meet Geralt's seething eyes.

“Why would they send her away?”

“After the dragons attacked the Dragary, the Dilos monks ordered the mass suicide to appease Dilos, since they feared they had upset him. While the king and queen, Ronar and Izzi, didn't wholly agree with this decree, they didn't stop them either.” he sighed, shaking his head. “But, unlike the legend, not all of the Dragarians died or killed themselves. The king and queen had a child, a _daughter_. They feared for her safety with the mass suicide, a possible retaliation and another dragon attack, sent their daughter away...”

“Y/n's mother?” Geralt frowned, confused.

“No, Witcher.” Ethos shook his head, an odd smirk on his face. “Y/n herself.”

“How is that possible?” He shook his head. “You said that, the Dragary were attacked some three hundred years ago. Y/n is just over a hundred.”

“Aye, that's because the king and queen were among the group that didn't kill themselves.” He laughed at Geralt's expression. “They faked their own deaths, using body doubles for the sacrifice, and went into hiding. Not long before y/n's birth, the others, that didn't join the sacrifice, the ones that opposed it and blamed the king and queen for it, found out about them still being alive.”

“How did they find out?”

Ethos shifted, uncomfortably and turned his face away.

“You.” Geralt growled, finally getting it. “You were the one that sold them out, that's what got you banished. Why?”

“They ruined my father's life!” Ethos barked, a sudden surge of anger pulsing through him. “If they had opposed that sacrifice, they could have recovered, my father would have continued to thrive! But, instead, they went along with it! So, when I found out that the king of Kovir and Poviss was sheltering them, I found the remaining Dragarians and told them, where they could find them.” He hissed, hot and without regret. “The only downside was I didn't know about y/n. She hadn't been born yet, the king and queen had been keeping her a secret.”

“We learned of y/n's birth, because I was her mother's midwife.” Emela chimed in, coming downstairs, having heard it all. “I warned them, without telling them it was Ethos, that they had been found, and the queen begged me to take y/n, find her a home that could keep her safe, to be loved and hide who she truly is, to protect her.”

“How did they find out about your deceit?”

“Someone found out it was I that disclosed their identities.” Ethos sighed and pressing his lips together. “They were the, unannounced, but official, guests of the king of Kovir and Poviss, which gave them all the kingdom's protection. As punishment for endangering their lives, while under that protection, I was banished here, and Emela followed.”

“What of this creature, that's been plaguing Midmaw?” Geralt asked, annoyed and curious.

“That, I don't entirely know.” Ethos admitted. “I heard a rumor, from one of the angry survivors, that they'd prayed to Dilos, to deliver a creature that would wreck havoc on all their enemies. Another rumor has it, that one of the survivors tried to return to his original dragon state, and failed.” He explained, rubbing at his temples. “Which is hard to say, if one, or either, is true or not.”

“She's a princess.” Geralt said softly, sitting down at the table.

“And, the last of her kind.” Ethos added in.

“How do you know that, if there were survivors?”

“Because, every one of the survivors, has been killed by that creature.” He informed the Witcher. “It wasn't until after the last of them was killed, it started attacking regulars, and I contacted Tankred about it.”

“You allowed the beast to kill them, why?”

“I suppose, in a way to make right, what I had done wrong.” The old man told him, honestly. “The couple, Emela had sent y/n to, in Marnadal, were her sister and brother-in-law.”

“My sister had been trying to have a child for a long while, but could not.” Emela explained, sitting next to Ethos and rested her hand on his arm. “So, when I was tasked with finding y/n a family, I sent her to them. It solved their want for a child, and y/n's need for a loving family to keep her safe. They didn't know who or what she is, I just told them, that one of the woman I midwifed for had died in child birth and the babe needed a home.”

“Y/n was about a year or so old, when the survivors finally caught up with her parents, and killed them.” Ethos said, taking Emela's hand. “I caused that dear and sweet girl to be an orphan and had her parents murdered for something that wasn't their fault. That was especially not _her_ fault, and I've tried to right it ever since.”

– –

You grunted and felt the blood trickling from a deep gash at your hairline, ears ringing from the loud noise of the cave in. Turning over, you pulled yourself up on your hands and knees, and slowly crawled down the passageway, following the fuzzy, but still present, throb of whatever navigation was inside of you, directing you were to go. You looked behind you, hearing the creature stir and groaned, seeing it shift and start to get up. You grabbed at a board along the side of the passageway way and used it to pull yourself up, whining as you put weight on your left ankle and looked down at it, it wasn't broken, likely dislocated or sprained. But, you didn't put much thought into it, all your thought and energy went into needing to get away from the monster. You tried portalling, but your chaos hadn't recovered from throwing Geralt and you no doubt had a bad concussion, that wasn't helping matters. Hopping and limping, you moved as quickly away from the creature that you could, but still didn't get far, before falling flat again, yelping as you landed on your bruised ribs, feeling one of them crunch and even more pain shooting through you.

“Fuck.” You mewled, rolling onto your back, the sound of the creature's claws scrapping along the floor, moving closer.

When it made it into the hallway, you used the teeny bit of chaos you had to hit it with an Aard, sending it tumbling down the other end of the passageway and dropped your head back, eyes rolling around in their sockets, before you passed out again. You woke with a gasp and a jolt, feeling a great weight on top of you, eyes flickered open, still rolled in the back of your head for a moment, before pointing forward again and set on the face of the creature as it loomed above you, reeking breath washing over your face, drool dripping from its sharp teeth. It's eyes were a fiery red, pupils slit like a dragon's, and it's face was rather strange. It had horns growing from its forehead, red scales covered one side of its face, but the the side of its face was quite human, the face of a once rather handsome young man. His face came closer to yours and you felt something thump against your chest, looking between your bodies you caught sight of the necklace, the one identical to the one still tucked between your shirts. You slowly moved your hand up to the neckline of your shirt, eyes never leaving his as you did. Feeling your movement, his hand wrapped around your throat and stood up, taking you with him and holding you off the ground. You tore at his half skin, half scaled arm, choking around his palm, claws digging into your skin. You gave up the struggle and slipped your hand back into your shirt, moving the necklace so it rested against the skin of your chest. You had nearly passed out, by the time your eyes changed, with the touch of the pendant, and felt a sudden surge of energy flow through you. Raising your dangling foot, you kicked the creature square in the chest sending him backwards, his claws scratching your neck, deepening the wound on the side of it, and dropped neatly to your feet. The creature skid to a stop several feet beyond you, looking up at you from its down turned face, a smug malice in its expression.

“ _A Dragarian_.” He hissed in Dragary.

“ _And who might you be?_ ” You asked back, in the same, you felt an overflowing power pumping through your veins, like dragon fire, and it felt incredible.

“ _Dasa_.” He growled, flexing his shoulders. “ _Son of Dilos, and you're_...” He raised his bloody claws, licking your blood off them. “ _Ah, yes. I thought I smelled Ronar in you_...Princess.”

“ _Princess?_ ” You frowned, shaking your head.

“ _Aw, the whelpling, doesn't know who, or what, she is_.” Dasa laughed, his laugh sounding breathy and rough.

“ _What are you talking about?_ ” You demanded, feeling your anger grow, like a ball of lava in your chest.

With a blink, Dasa was back on top of you, pressing you to the wall. “ _Find out for yourself, Princess_.” He taunted you, then muttered a spell in Dragary.

You gasped as a crushing pain shot through your brain and images flashed in your mind in quick succession. Two huge Dragons facing off with each other, one Red, Dilos and one Silver, Ronar, your birth father. They battled each other from the skies to the mountain peaks, breathing fire on each other, clawing at any part of the other's body they could reach, until they both lay wounded, but still raging at each other. Another dragon entered, a _gold_ dragon, Orzac, and looked upon Dilos and Ronar with disappointment, sadness and... _love_.

– Flash Back –

' _You have dishonored me, my sons_.' He boomed in a powerful voice, shaking his enormous dragon head, that startlingly resembled the necklace you and Dasa were wearing.

' _I wished to prove to you, father, that I am mighty enough to rule, when you are gone_.' Dilos boomed back, baring his teeth at Ronar. ' _My brother, Ronar, is too weak to rule!_ '

' _I only sought to protect myself, father_.' Ronar roared back, ignoring Dilos. ' _And my mate_.' he added, glancing at the white dragon, perched not far away, Izzi, your birth mother.

' _You are not worthy of her!_ ' Dilos snapped, black swirls of smoke leaving his nostrils. ' _White dragons are not for lesser Silver dragons, like you! She should be with a mate that is worthy, like me!_ '

' _Enough!_ ' Orzac thundered, extending his wings and silencing them both. ' _I care not for either of your reasons and excuses! You have still shamed and disappointed me!_ ' He growled, folding his wings against his body. ' _You are both banished from my presence and this kingdom. Be gone with you!_ '

Dilos gave Ronar a dark glare. ' _This isn't over_ , Brother.' He growled, rising to unfold his wings and flew off.

' _Father_...” Ronar called, as Orzac made to leave.

' _I will not change my mind, Ronar_.' He sighed, turning his long neck to look at his youngest son.

' _That is not what I ask of you, Father_.' Ronar replied, his head hung.

' _Then, what is it you seek?_ '

' _My mate, Izzi, and I wish to live among the humans_.' He explained, glancing at her.

' _And how will you make a living among them?_ ' Orzac asked, turning completely.

' _White dragons are the greatest of healers, in our species and the land_.' Ronar explained, with a heavy sigh. ' _We can make a living that way and I can find work. I suppose, I have two asks of you, Father_.' He looked up at him.

' _Name them, and they will be considered_.'

' _One, for you to allow us to have a human form of our dragon abilities, and you allow me to mine our mountain, to support ourselves_.' He asked of his father, daringly.

Orzac narrowed his eyes at his youngest son, Ronar had always been his favorite, the dragonling asked for little, and usually returned much. ' _I will allow this. But, be sure not to allow your true nature to be known, or the blessing of our mountain's gift_.'

' _You have my word and honor, father_.' Ronar assured him, bowing.

– –

“ _You see, whelpling_.” Dasa's voice cut in. “ _My father was banished and forced fend for himself, then for my mother and I. While, your mother and father prospered on our people's mountains, building a kingdom for themselves. Ruling, when it should have been my father that was a king!_ ” He squeezed your throat even tighter. “ _So, my father and mother, having enough of it, swooped down into your family's kingdom and burned it to the ground_.”

“ _But, my_... _parents_... _and their people, worshiped your father as a god_...”

“ _Not my father, you ignorant brat_.” He snapped at you, thumping your head hard against the wall. “ _Our family name is Dilos, my father's given name is Orsa_.”

“ _So, why are you doing this?_ ” You asked, blinking the stars out of your eyes. “ _The Dragary kingdom is gone, has been for a very long time. There's nothing left of it_.”

He grinned at you. “ _There was. There were survivors of the Dragary, that opposed the sacrifice and merged into other kingdoms, some stayed in Midmaw. But, even the ones that left came back, honoring those that did kill themselves. All I had to do was be patient and kill all of them. I also knew I had a cousin, I had planned to go searching for you, once I was done here. But_ ,” He threw his head back and laughed, making the passageway ring with it. “ _You came to me! You arrived to investigate the happenings around here just before I killed the last two survivors, sent by the king of Kovir_.”

It dawned on you, then. “ _You kept killing those poor innocent villagers, to keep my attention_.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. “ _But, why stop killing, when I arrived, why not kill me? You had more than countless opportunities to do so, and why did you kill Atlas?_ ”

“ _Because, you would arrive, examine the bodies, wait in the village for a few days, then leave, when nothing would happen. I had to do something that would really grab your attention and you sending that stupid Mage, was just the right kind of attention. Though, I didn't anticipate you bringing a fucking Witcher_.”

“ _Killing on moon phases?_ ”

“ _My own amusement_.” He confessed.

“ _Still doesn't answer, why you never just killed me outright, when you did have the chance too_.” You replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

“ _I wanted to get you alone_.”

“ _Well, here I am_.” You taunted him. “ _You've had all this time to kill me, and you've spent it yapping_.” You laughed, no longer bothered by his hand around your throat. “ _You afraid, I can kick your ass?_ ” You asked him, your narrowed pupils widening for a moment.

Dasa growled, sliding you along the wall and launching you clear through the passageway and into another chamber. You grunted as you landed, all the air leaving your lungs for a moment, but quickly returned, the Dilos pendant around your neck felt warm against your skin. Dasa casually walked into the chamber as you got up to your feet, spitting blood on the floor, you were sure either one of your broken ribs was pressing against a lung, or your lungs were bruised.

“ _You don't know how to use that necklace, do you?_ ” Dasa laughed, watching you wipe blood from your mouth. “ _It's a pity I have to kill you. I would teach you how to use it, and we could rebuild what our parents destroyed_.”

“ _I'd rather not, end up looking like you_.” You laughed back, flexing your hands and shaking your head. “ _Why do you look like that? Your mother not love you enough?_ ” You taunted him, jerking out of the way of his swipe.

“ _The spell to turn me human, went wrong_.” He growled, swiping at you again.

“ _Oh, that makes sense why you hide that ugly mug, down an abandoned mine shift_.” You chuckled, blocking his strike, gripping his wrist in a crushing grasp with one hand and slamming your palm to the center of his chest, sending him crashing into the opposite wall, then pulling your sword.

“ _A Dragirium blade_.” Dasa huffed, seeing the red metal of your weapon.

“ _Is that what it is_.” You huffed, looking at it. “ _I always wondered_.” You said, your apparent foster father had given it to you, telling you it was a family heirloom. “ _That does explain why I don't need to sharpen it_.” You said, recalling what Aero said about Dragirium blades.

“ _You, just like your father, are a insult to Dragons and Dragary!_ ” Dasa howled, charging at you, his head down.

You let instinct take over, stepping aside and bringing your sword down, feeling the sharp thunk as the sharp blade cut through one of Dasa's horns. “ _Looking better already, Cousin_.” You laughed, letting the blade slip back into its sheath.

“ _I will kill you!_ ” Dasa howled and leaped at you, grabbing you around the waist and shooting his hand upward, growling something in Dragary. “ _Even if it means killing myself_.”

Your head jerked up as the ceiling started to fall in around you. Groaning, you squeezing your eyes shut and portalled you both out of the mine, before it was too late. “ _You forget, Cousin. I am still a Mage_.” You huffed, connecting the back of your elbow to the side of his face, knocking him off of you. But, not before he clawed the side of your face, narrowly missing your eye.

“ _And you forget, cousin_.” He laughed, wiping the blood from the cut above his eye. “ _I am a Dragon_.” He said, pulling off the little clothing he was wearing, wrapped his hand around the pendant and whispered something in Dragary.

Your mouth fell open as wings unfolded from Dasa's back and he shifted into a large blue dragon. He eyed you for a moment, a smug look in his red eyes, before pushing off the ground, beating his wings and taking off into the air.

“Well, anything you can do, I can do better.” You said, yanking your shirt over your head and pulling off your boots and leggings.

“Y/n!”

You jerked your bloody face up, hearing Geralt's voice and saw him running towards you, with Ethos. You met his eyes for a moment, before murmuring the same phrase Dasa had and gasped, a searing pain raced up your spine and bloomed in your shoulderblade, dropping you to your knees, as your own wings extended, clawing at the ground as the pain increased, bones snapping and shifting, your skin rippling and changing into scales. Geralt and Ethos stopped in their tracks, watching with astonishment and shock as you shifted into a huge dragon.

“Dear God,” Ethos gasped, mouth hanging up and eyes following you, as you pushed shakily into the air. “She's discovered her _true nature_.”

“She's a Dragon.” Geralt blinked, stunned and awed at the same time.

“A rare, _black_ dragon.” Ethos added, impressed.


	11. Feud's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You battle Dasa in Dragon form, ending a centuries old family feud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minne - Love  
> En'ca Minne - Little Love

“This is incredible.” Ethos said, running out into the clearing of Hammer's Glen, catching sight of your and Dasa's dragon forms in the light of the thumbnail moon.

It was easier for them to see Dasa's cobalt blue body, than it was for them to see your onyx scales, they blended in so well with the inky night sky, shining like stars in the moon light. You were shaky in the sky, unaccustomed to flight, but the feeling of it was incredibly exhilarating and freeing, it had to be what birds felt, when they took flight. You leveled your body with Dasa's, high in the sky, the beating of your wings kicked up a strong wind around your bodies as you stared each other down.

“ _So, the whelp learns to fly_.” Dasa's voice resounded through your mind.

“ _That's right, cousin_.” You replied, getting the hang of it. “ _Now, it's time we end this family feud, now and forever_.”

“ _I will not allow a runt, out do me!_ ” Dasa howled and opened his maw, a large ball of flame forming in its deep recess, a strip of crimson red lit up his spine, from the base of his skull to the tip of his tail.

“Oh, no!” Ethos cried, seeing it. “He's going to fire on her.”

You drew a deep breath through your nostrils, opening your own maw, a stripe of violet racing from the back of your head to the tip of your tail, both of you lit up and defined against the midnight sky, red and silver eyes glowing with fury.

“She's going to fire back.” Geralt whispered, frozen in place.

“She's black and purple.” Ethos mumbled.

“Does that mean something?” Geralt asked, managing to look away from you long enough to glance at him.

“Dragons are defined by their color, you should know that much, Witcher.” he replied, still looking at you and Dasa. “Blue Dragons are uncommon. A blue Dragon with red breath are exceedingly powerful for their color.” He explained, his eyes huge. “Black Dragons are the rarest..”

“ _Gold_ Dragons are the rarest.” Geralt replied, remembering Borch, also known as Villentretenmerth, a Gold Dragon, he once helped.

“Be it as it may, Black Dragons are just as rare.” Ethos continued to explain, watching as you and Dasa charged your breathes. “But, a Black Dragon with Purple flame, I have never heard of in my life. A Silver Dragon with a Purple flame, yes, and that Dragon was not one to be messed with.” He elaborated, then got a thoughtful look on his face. “I wonder, if that was y/n's father. He was said to be a Silver Dragon.”

You released your deep breath, letting out a beam of bright violet fire from your mouth as Dasa released his Crimson, blending together in a magenta orb. You beat your mighty wings harder and strained your body, pushing your breath and flame out as hard as you could, overpowering Dasa's and forcing him to roll to the side and take a steep spiraling dive towards the ground to get away from it. You angled yourself downward and dove after him, swooping up just before you hit the ground, holding your wings straight and stiff to glide after him for a moment, before flapping them as hard as you could, chasing Dasa to the near by coast. Geralt and Ethos took off after you on foot, Geralt reached the beach just as you and Dasa locked claws. Dasa tried to let out another stream of fire, but you swiveled your head to the side and down, latching your fangs onto his throat, cutting off the steam of flame and making him roar, ferociously. Locked together you both spun and tumbled, wings beating against the other's, claws grabbing and tearing, mouths letting out bursts of flame and snapping at throats, wings and anything else reachable. You let out a thundering cry as Dasa was able to bite into the elbow of your right wing, forcing you to take a sharp roll to rip it free of his fangs. The pain of using it was almost too much for you to bare, but you stayed up in the air; the sheer determination to avenge all the innocent people Dasa had killed, to avenge Atlas, to avenge your parents and people that Dasa and his parents had taken from you. Grabbing his claws back in yours, to steady yourself, you used your horns to ram against the side of Dasa's head, then clamped down hard on the back of his neck, when you could grab at it, from his attempt to deflect your blow. Dasa screamed again, thrashing about, trying to shake free of you, but you only bit down harder, the purple stripe running down your body again as you used all the strength you had to crush the back of his neck and the base of his skull, the disturbing crunch and the metallic taste of his blood in your mouth, you gave your mighty head one hard shake, snapping what little of his neck that was left.

“Good God!” Ethos cried, mouth dropping open.

“Y/n!” Geralt screamed, his heart stopping as he watched Dasa go limp in your mouth, wings drooping and both your bodies plummet from the sky and crash with an explosion into the raging ocean below.

Geralt and Ethos stood frozen and stunned at the edge of the water, waves lapping up their lags as time seemed to stretch on, with no sight of you. The blow of hitting the water, knocked you unconscious, but the painful sting of salt water in your various wounds, shocked you back and you struggled under the waves to free yourself from Dasa, his dead claws stiffened around yours. After several frightful moments, you managed to free yourself ad used your tail and undamaged wing to propel you back to the surface, bursting from the water and spinning upward into the sky from the momentum. Both Geralt and Ethos let out relieved breathes seeing you, but their concern didn't lessen, as they watched you struggle to keep in the air and turn back towards land. You barely stayed up long enough to do so, before crashing to the ground like a bomb and skid across the sand, before finally coming to a halt. By the time Geralt and Ethos made it to the crater, your unconscious body shifted back to human form.

“Y/n.” Geralt panted, out of breath, as he dropped to his knees beside you and pushing your wet hair from your bloody face.

“These wounds.” Ethos commented, seeing the scratch across your face, the gash at your hairline, the bite mark at on your right elbow, and gashes all over your torso and legs from you and Dasa clawing at each other. “Witcher.” He said, softly, resting his hand on Geralt's shoulder. “I don't think, there's anything we can do for her.”

“Bullshit!” Geralt barked, not giving up on you. “There has to be--”

A roar rippled through the air, making Geralt and Ethos snap their heads behind them and were stunned to see a giant Gold Dragon landing on the beach several yards away.

“A G-gold Dragon.” Ethos mumbled, flabbergasted at the sight.

The Dragon approached slowly and the closer it got, the more it changed. So, by the time it reached them, it was no longer a Dragon, but a man.

“Come no closer!” Geralt warned and stood, he'd had enough of surprise Dragons.

“Calm yourself, Witcher.” The man replied, still approaching. “I've come to help.”

“Help.” Geralt snapped, growling deep in his chest. “Help, how?”

The man smiled at him, then moved to kneel beside your mortally wounded body. “The only way a grandfather can.” He said, touching your blood soaked face.

“Grandfather?”

“Yes.” He replied, grasping your dragon necklace. “I am Orzac, King of the Dragons. Y/n is my granddaughter, daughter of my youngest son, Ronar.” He explained, but his full attention was on you. Orzac closed his hand around your necklace and closed his eyes, softly speaking in Dragary. As he whispered, your wounds slowly started to close, healing up without so much as a scar or a mark. “My dearest grandchild, like your father before you, you are the mightiest of our kind, having proven yourself to your king and grandfather, honoring your kin. I am proud of you, as would be your parents. For that, I gift you this,” he squeezed the dragon pendant, and gold light shining around it. “all of it's powers, and free you of your father's banishment from home.” Orzac rested his hand upon your wet hair. “May you return, when you wish and may you live the greatest of lives.” He bent and kissed your forehead and moved away from you.

A moment later, your eyes snapped open, glowing metallic silver, and started coughing up all the sea water you had inadvertently swallowed.

“Y/n?” Geralt let out in a relieved breath, dropping beside you and pulling you up against his chest, gently patting your back as you continued to puke up water.

“Geralt.” You rasped, panting and groaning.

“Yeah.” He smiled, hugging you against him. “You're all right, I've got you now.”

You grabbed a hold of his arm, but your eyes were on Orzac, narrowing them, confused.

“It is nice to finally greet you, Grandchild.” he smiled at you, his gold eyes shining. “May we meet again, on better terms.” He winked and walked away, vanishing from sight.

“Was that...” You looked up at Geralt with shocked confusion.

“I'll explain it later.” He laughed, smiling at you.

“Here.” Ethos swept his cloak off and wrapped it around your naked body. “It's good to have you alive.”

“It's good to be alive.” You answered as Geralt scooped you up into his arms, hugging your shivering body against the warmth of his. “Did I change into a dragon?” You whispered into Geralt's ear after several silent minutes of walking.

“Yes.” He nodded, glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes, like he expected you to do it again. “A very beautiful and magnificent dragon, at that.”

“Okay.” You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder, extremely tired. “I just wanted to make sure, I wasn't hallucinating from blood loss.”

“You most certainly, were not.” Ethos laughed, still shocked himself.

Geralt carried you back to your room at the inn and laid you down on the bed, before going down to wake the innkeeper and demand the wash tub from him, carrying it back upstairs and filling it was hot water. “Come, let's get that chilled skin warm again.” He said, removing Etho's cloak from around you, picking you up again and easing you into the steaming water.

“Oh gods, that feels nice.” You moaned, melting into it. “Thank you.” You sighed, closing your eyes.

“Of course.” Geralt smiled, sitting beside the tub and gently stroking your hair. “You haven't a scratch on you.” He commented, looking over your body, the only mark on you, was the long scar from the Bruxa, all those months ago. “He did some pretty amazing healing on you.”

“Dragons are apparently very adept at healing.” You replied, turning your face into his hand. “My mother was a healer.” You told him. “my birth mother that is, she was a White Dragon.” You corrected yourself.

“Well, that explains where you get your healing talents.” He smiled, brushing the back of his knuckles over your cheek.

“That it assuredly does.” You agreed, opening your eyes to look at him. “I am sorry about the Aard.” You said, looking him over and seeing the wounds he still had. “I just didn't want you to get hurt. I knew, I could portal out to safety, once I dealt with Dasa.”

“Was that the _creature's_ name?” He asked, settling his amber-gold eyes on you.

“It is... _was_.” You frowned, the battle coming back to you now. “He was my cousin. It seems that the two dragons that attacked Dragary were my uncle and his wife, they were bitter that my parents had prospered more than them, once they were both banished from home.” You explained, flashes of the memory flickering through your tired mind.

“It's fine now.” Geralt whispered, softly, to you. “Don't think of it, right now.” He told you, leaning in to kiss you. “You need to rest.” He said, pulling back slightly and tilting his head at you, tenderly. “I'll take care of you.”

“Who's going to care for you?” You asked him, touching the cut on his arm.

“I'll survive, I've suffered worse.” He assured you.

“It's my job to take care of the wounded.” You replied, frowning at him. “I'm use to caring for myself.”

“You don't always have to take care of others, and it's all right to let someone else take care of you.” He said, picking up a sponge and a bit of soap, then carefully sponging away the blood, grime and sand caked into your skin and hair. “I want to take care of you, y/n. So, let me.”

You moaned in blissful relaxation, giving yourself over to him and closing your eyes again, drifting off to sleep, in the process. Geralt finished bathing you and grabbed the fluffy towel he'd taken from Hector, having threaten the Innkeeper, who tried giving him a pitiful excuse of a towel, instead. He carefully dried your hair, smirking as you moaned in your sleep. You stirred from your slumber long enough to be toweled off, then fell back to sleep as he carried you to the pleasantly warm and soft bed. Geralt removed his torn clothing and washed himself, tended to the gash on his arm, tossed a few more oak logs on the fire, so it would burn well into the night, and laid down with you, spooning your naked body into his. He stroked the side of your neck, traced your brow and tucked the damp strands of your hair behind your ear, the tip of his finger followed the curve of your earlobe and frowned. Geralt carefully brushed your hair away from your ear and gently folded it out of the way, studying the strange metallic violet [Mark](https://66.media.tumblr.com/301175dda53af8b6bdd4705bce3e51f8/6cd37a64de03b54d-17/s250x400/24fb0d2fe3fcbecb6b0ba418a680ee4e5dd6a0e9.jpg) behind your ear, two swirling lines with a curved line running through them. He had never noticed the mark before and touched it gently, it felt cool against your heated and sweaty skin, making the pad of his finger tingle.

“Hm, that tickles.” You mumbled in your sleep, reaching up and touching the mark, smiling softly.

“Sorry, minne.” Geralt whispered back, kissing your cheek. “Go back to sleep, you need your rest.” He told you, tucking you closer against him. “Me en'ca minne.” He whispered into your ear, closing his eyes.

– –

“There's something you should see.” Geralt said, as the two of you packed.

“All right.” You sighed, turning your attention to him.

Geralt pulled you over to the small mirror on the wall, turning you sideways and brushing your hair back. “I noticed a _mark_ behind your ear.” He explained, holding your ear out of the way for you to see it.

“What the...” You frowned, moving closer to the mirror to look at it. “That wasn't there before.” You said, touching it, feeling its tingling coolness. “You think, it has something to do with my turning into a Dragon?” You asked, looking at him through the mirror.

“It's likely.” Geralt agreed, examining it.

“You think, as we travel back to Crasmere, we could stop by Aero's again?” You asked, stroking the mark.

“Of course.” He nodded, he'd already decided to drop by the Elf's home.

Packed, You and Geralt went to say good-bye to Ethos and Emela. You felt strange seeing the old man, Geralt had told you about what he'd done to your parents in revenge, and what he'd seen of your Dragon battle with Dasa. But, you didn't feel right just leaving without a word, either.

“I am so glad you're all right.” Emela said, throwing her arms around your neck. “I was worried sick, after what Ethos had told me.” She fretted over you.

“I'm all right.” You smiled at her, kissing her cheek. “We came to say good-bye, before heading back to Crasmere.” You told him, glancing at Ethos.

“So soon?” Emela frowned.

“The monster is dealt with, Midmaw should be more than safe from now on.” You assured her, giving her a tight smile.

“Y/n,” Ethos said, softly, moving closer to you. “I am so sorry, for not telling you what I knew of your parents.” He sighed, frowning. “Part of me believed, you were better off not knowing the truth about them, and the other part of me...” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I don't know, all of what I was thinking. I'm just really sorry.”

“I know, the truth of it now.” You answered, shifting uncomfortably. “That's all I care about.” You told him, brushing a hand through your hair.

“I am still sorry.” He said, shifting on his feet.

“I forgive you.” You whispered, hugging him.

– –

“Three visits in a month!” Aero laughed, stepping aside and letting you and Geralt inside. “More questions about the Dragarians, I'm sure.”

“Aero, you might want to sit down.” You smiled at him, taking a seat in the living room.

“I don't like that tone.” The Elf replied, taking a seat.

“I'm a Dragon.” You laughed, just getting on with it.

“A _Black_ Dragon, at that.” Geralt added.

“What!” Aero gasped, leaning forward.

“It seems,” You cleared your throat. “That my _birth_ parents, were the king and queen of the Dragary Kingdom. They were both Dragons, in human form. My Grandfather, my Father's father, is the Gold Dragon, Orzac, King of _all_ Dragons. The creature that was attacking people in Midmaw was my cousin, Dasa. His Father, my uncle Orsa, and his wife, were the Dragons that attacked them. They were jealous.”

“Then, what was this cousin of yours doing?”

“He was finishing off the rest of the Dragarian survivors.” You explained.

“Dragarian survivors?” Aero frowned, shaking his head.

“Not all of them committed the sacrifice.” Geralt explained, glancing at you. “Ethos found out that y/n's birth parents, Ronar and Izzi, didn't commit suicide, and as revenge for, supposedly ruining his father's trade business, disclosed their survival to the survivors and they killed them for it. But, not before Emela, Ethos's wife, made sure y/n was safe.”

“This is incredible!” Aero grinned, excited to hear the tale. “So, you can turn into a Dragon. How?”

You removed the pendant from under your shirt. “That's what this does to me, if I use it correctly.” You explained to him. “But, I have something else that's strange.”

“Such as?”

“I have a mark, that appeared, Geralt noticed it after my fight with Dasa.” You told him, pulling your hair up and showing it to him. “Do you have any idea what it is, or means?”

Aero got up to take a closer look. “Intriguing.” He hummed, touching it softly. “Let me see.” He trotted upstairs and came back down with a huge book, setting it down on the table beside his chair, Aero took several minutes to flip through it. “Hm.” He frowned, leaning closer to one of the pages. “It's a Dragon Mark.” He finally spoke, tilting his head at the page. “Seems all Dragons have a special mark. While, all of them are different, the lines that create the marks, are what gives the marks their power. The top curved line of yours is the healing mark, which makes sense, with your incredible capabilities of healing people, but you can also use it to heal yourself. The two parentheses, are the Magi marks, the longer one is Dragary Magic and the smaller is Battle Magic. The bottom up curve heightens your already rather sensitive senses, and the line running through it has to do with your being such a highborn of Dragon royalty.” He explained, picking the book up and turning it towards you, so you could see.

“That makes sense, I suppose.” You said, looking them over.

“You must have unlocked it, when you tapped into your true nature.” Aero said, sitting back in his seat. “It's the only thing that makes sense to me.”

“Perhaps, your grandfather would know more.” Geralt added. “He is the King of Dragons, after all.”

“That is a very good point.” Aero agreed, nodding his head at the Witcher.

“As much, as I want to get to know what family I have left, I really don't want any more surprises.” You answered, giving Aero the book back. “I just wanna go home.” You said, looking at Geralt with a tired expression.

“We'll be back in that homey cottage of yours, in no time.” Geralt promised, squeezing your hand.


	12. Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get back home with Geralt. But, it doesn’t last, when a Violet eyed Sorceress shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pet names in Elder Speech:  
>  _Me Minne - My Love  
>  Me En'ca Minne - My Little Love  
> Me Bleidd - My Wolf_

It felt amazing to see Crasmere come into sight, you hugged your arms tighter around Geralt's waist as it did, the excitement of being home was strong.

“Y/n! Witcher!” Elias's voice called out as he appeared out of his door, on his way to the market. “You're home, and all in one piece I see!”

You and Geralt exchanged a knowing chuckled, as you smiled at the alderman. “We are, thankfully.” You replied. “I hope, Ifra hasn't had too many patients, while I was away?” You inquired.

“No more than the usual culprits.” He laughed, smiling up at you.

“That's good to know.” You answered, yawning. “She wouldn't mind tending to them for a few more days, would she? I'm rather exhausted from the _journey_.”

“Of course not!” Elias told you, looking at you like you were mad to think otherwise.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, grateful. “Let's go home, Geralt.” You whispered to him.

“As you wish, en'ca minne.” He answered, patting your arm and moving Roach forward towards the cottage.

“Home, sweet Home.” You giggled, getting down from Roach and stepping up on your porch. “It's always an amazing feeling coming home.”

“I wouldn't know.” Geralt commented, pulling Roach's saddle off.

“Don't you spend most winters in Kaer Morhen?” You asked, turning around to face him. “That's home for you, isn't it?”

“Not really.” He explained, sighing. “It's _a_ home. But, it's not _home_. I've never come back to any place and felt...”

“Like, you belong.” You said softly, looking at expression on his face. “Like, it was the one place you could be yourself and find peace.”

Geralt frowned, looking the cottage over and turned to look over the land it was on. “I do,” He turned back around to face you, a gentle smile on his face. “find peace _here_.” He admitted, feeling that peace filling his chest. “with _you_.”

“Then,” You smiled back, blushing. “that means you _belong_ here, _with_ me.”

He stepped up onto the porch, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “I don't want to belong anywhere else, with anyone else.” He whispered, bending his head and kissing you, lovingly, on the lips.

You laughed as he picked you up and carried you inside, taking you to your bed and laying you down, making short work of removing your and his clothing. He grabbed the back of your knees and pulled you to the edge of the bed, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You're rather impatient.” You laughed, rolling your hips as he rubbed himself against you.

“I've wanted you for days.” Geralt rasped, his eyes a glow with lust.

“I'm all yours, Witcher.” You smirked, hugging your legs tighter around his hips

“Hm.” He grunted, lining his cock up and entered you, with one smooth and hard thrust, making you cry out as he hit both your sweet spot and your cervix.

“Fuck, Geralt!” You cried out again as he drove himself into you again, even harder.

The sharp and stinging slap of skin connecting filled the quaint cottage with the unashamed cries from your lips with every powerful and satisfying thrust, and every, almost, animal sound coming from between Geralt's clenched teeth. Geralt's hands had your hips in a bruising grasp, you grabbed at his thick wrists and pushed yourself down on his cock with every inward thrust, taking him even deeper into your core. You felt the frenzy of your bodies spiral up into their peaks, making you dizzy with the altitude.

“Geralt.” You called out, back arching and head thrown back as you fell from the peak of your orgasm and into an incredibly high and heavy place, all of your senses tingling.

“Y/n.” Geralt panted back, out of breath from the hard and quick pace.

He took a step back, pulling his flaccid cock free of your core, then dropped down on the bed beside you, eyes closing as it all caught up to him. You woke hours later, snuggled into Geralt's side, your head on his chest and feeling the soreness between your legs, but you didn't care, you still felt great from your orgasm. Shifting and sitting up, you brushed back the hair in your face, retying it, before getting up and padding down to the kitchen, parched. You giggled, taking a sip of water and feeling Geralt's arms wrap around your waist, hugging you flush against him.

“I'm right here, Geralt.” You whispered, setting the glass down and resting your head back against his chest. “I haven't left you, again.”

“Just making sure, me minne.” He replied, his sleepy voice close to your ear.

“I was just thirsty, is all.” You assured him, folding your hands over his and looking out the kitchen window to your garden.

“Are you happy?” Geralt asked, looking at the garden as well. “To be home, I mean.”

“I am.” You nodded, and turned in his arms to look up at him. “I'm happy to be with you, more.” You confessed, pushing up on your toes and kissing him.

“As am I.” He replied, cupping your face and deepening the kiss.

Breaking the kiss, Geralt took your hand and led you out of the kitchen, you figured he was taking you back to bed, but, he guided you out the front door instead, out into the garden, lit by the full moon. You smiled at him as he made you sit on the stone bench, beside the gurgling fountain. He touched the Wolf medallion that rested against your chest and the Dragon pendant that dangled between your breasts, the only things you were still wearing; before turning away from you. His fingertips grazed the silky petals of the flowers growing in your garden, stopping, he leaned forward sniffing one of them before carefully picking it and turned back towards you, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.

“A red tulip.” You smiled, taking a deep breath as he held it out for you to smell.

“Do you know what a red tulip means?” He asked, gently touching it to your throat.

“Uh,” You bit your lip, the soft petals tickling your skin. “No, I don't. Do you know?” You asked, feeling the petals caress the skin of your breasts.

“I do know.” Geralt smirked, watching your nipples harden from the flower's light touch. “It means, ' _I declare my love_.' I learned it from Jaskier.” He said, seeing the amused sparkle in your silver eyes.

“Is that so?” You asked, even more amused and laid back on the bench, letting him trail the flower between your breasts and over your stomach. “And, how does the poetic Bard know about that?”

“He's Jaskier.” Geralt laughed, circling the flower around your navel. “He'll do anything to woo a woman. Rather, he'd do anything to woo the Countess de Stael back, for the millionth time.” He explained, tracing the curve of your hips and down your thigh.

“So, is that what you're doing?” You sighed, looking up at the full moon. “Declaring your love and trying to woo me.”

“While, I believe, I have already done both in various terms.” He smiled, gliding the tulip up your other thigh and over your side, making you giggle as it brushed over ticklish spots. “I am, indeed, declaring my love for you, y/n.” He said, touching it to your heart. “As for wooing you.” He chuckled, his mischievous smirk meeting his eyes as he looked at you.

Geralt carefully tucked the tulip in your hair, behind your ear, and knelt at the end of the stone bench, between your legs, licking his lips and nuzzled a cheek against the side of your knee, the light stubble tickling your skin. He kissed up the inside of your thigh, pausing to give your pussy a light lick, tasting the sticky remains of your previous love making, and kissed down your other thigh, before venturing back up. You smiled softly, feeling his mouth move back to your pussy, giving it slow and light licks, making you moan and brush your fingers through his silvery-white hair, pulling it free and feeling it caress the skin of your thighs as the gentle night breeze stirred its strands. Closing your eyes, you let your senses run free, the feel of Geralt between your legs, pleasuring you, the cool breeze on your naked skin, the sounds Geralt made, the flow of the river nearby and the chirp of some night bird, and the taste of Geralt's lips, still lingering on your own. It all felt so peaceful and right, something you had been craving for such a long time; something Geralt had been searching for as well. Your gasp, as you came, floated away on the wind, and left you limp on the stone bench, a smile on your face.

“You are incredibly good a wooing, Geralt.” You complimented him, creaking open your eyes.

“Thank you.” He smirked, kissing the top of your knee and stood. “I fully enjoy _wooing_ you.” He admitted, pulling you up and sitting down, then pulled you into his lap.

“I rather enjoy it myself.” You answered, brushing your fingers through his hair and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Good.” Geralt whispered into your neck, slipping a hand behind you, taking himself and letting your core slowly sheath his cock inside you.

You kissed him, rocking against him and rolling your hips, moving him inside of you enough to stimulate you both, breathy sounds coming from you as your sore and overstimulated core worked around him. You relaxed and tightened your walls around him, rhythmic in your motions. Geralt wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you against him and kissed his way down your lips, over your chin, trailing wet kisses down your throat and over your shoulder and chest, burying his nose into your skin and taking deep breaths, letting your scent of Sunflowers and Cedarwood take over all of his senses, clouding his mind with a pleasant fog.

“Y/n.” Geralt sighed, filling you up all over again.

“Geralt.” You smirked, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him, passionately.

“I'm sure, you're going to want to bathe now.” He said, resting his forehead against your collarbone.

“Hmm,” You hummed, pressing your lips together. “No.” You shook your head and nosed his hair, the scent of Chamomile filling your nostrils. “I'm rather content on smelling like you, for a while.”

He chuckled against your skin, smiling softly. “Let's go back inside, then.” He whispered, feeling the goosebumps ripple over your skin, and picked you up, carrying you back inside and to bed.

– –

Geralt jerked up right, a deep crease on his brow.

You moaned, feeling the bed shake and reached out for Geralt. “What's wrong?” You asked, stirring awake.

“That smell.” He panted, blinking and try to shake it free from his mind.

“What smell, Geralt?” You frowned, opening your eyes and turning on your side to look at him, then caught the scent yourself. “Lilacs and...”

“Gooseberries.” Geralt whispered and got out of bed, yanking his pants on.

Frowning, you got dressed and followed Geralt out onto the porch, finding a young woman standing in your yard, her brow raised and violet eyes looking you and Geralt over. “Yennefer.” You whispered, lifting a brow at her.

“You know her?” Geralt asked, turning his head towards you.

“We've met at Aretuza, once or twice.” You replied, eyes still on her.

“How did you find me?” Geralt asked, turning his attention back to Yennefer.

“The same way I always find you, Geralt.” Yennefer answered, lowering her brow. “I just follow the scent of blood, horse and death.”

You tilted your head at her, blinking once as you realized, Yennefer not only didn't know Geralt's true scent, but the pair of them were once lovers. “You two use to be a couple.” You stated, more than asked.

“Yes, but that ended in disappointment, didn't it, Geralt?” Yennefer replied, giving the Witcher a rude expression. “You might watch out for that, y/n. Just saying.” She added, glancing at you.

“What do you want, Yennefer?” Geralt growled, folding his arms over his bare chest.

Yennefer sighed, rolling her eyes at him. “I, unfortunately, need your help.” She admitted, begrudgingly.

“With?”

“Well, obviously, if I'm asking for your help, _Witcher_ , then it must be with a monster.” She sassed him, folding her arms.

“ _Obviously_.” You rolled your eyes at her.

Yennefer narrowed her eyes at you. “I've come from Ellander, in Temeria. They have some sort of creature tormenting them. King Foltest has asked Triss to find someone to help and she thought of you, but didn't know where to find you. So, she asked me to find you.”

“What kind of creature?” Geralt asked, rubbing the side of his face, he had been looking forward to a few days of rest with you.

“My guess was a werewolf, and Triss believes its a Bruxa.” She explained, impatient.

“You have some experience with Bruxas.” Geralt smirked, looking at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Hm, you're so funny.” You grinned back, shaking your head, amused.

“All right, we'll pack and meet you in Ellander.” He sighed at Yennefer.

“ _We_?” Yennefer echoed.

“I'm not leaving without y/n.” He told her, motioning to you.

“What help is she going to be?”

Your body started to shake and a laughed bubbled up out of you. “You have no fucking idea.” You roared, throwing your head back and went inside.

“Do you love her?” Yennefer called as Geralt turned to follow you in.

He turned back towards her, seeing the look on her face. “Yes.” He nodded, and went in.

“Another monster.” You sighed, swinging up into Shadow's saddle and looking over at Geralt as he mounted Roach. “What are the chances.” You huffed, shaking your head.

“Well, Spring is coming,” He answered, moving Roach forward. “and that is the time monsters start to come back out.” He explained.

“Hibernation.” You nodded your head.

You paused long enough to inform Elias that, yet again, you would be away from home for an unknown amount of time, then you and Geralt continued on towards Ellander. It was a two day ride to the town, filled mostly with rain. Finding Yennefer at the alderman's house, you and Geralt got the rundown of what had been going on.

“There's always been monster attacks on Ellander.” The alderman, Rollo, explained to the three of you as he sat behind his desk. “But, that is only maybe once or twice a month. This thing has attacked that much in the last two weeks.”

“How is it attacking?” Geralt asked him, tilting his head.

“Some are slashed, like that of a werewolf, and others are drained dry, like a Vampire.” He elaborated, rubbing his face, clearly at his wits' end.

“Could a Bruxa and Werewolf be working together?” You asked, frowning at Geralt.

“Don't be silly.” Yennefer shook her head.

“It is possible.” Geralt answered, giving Yennefer a look. “There was a man, cursed, called Nivellen, who was in a relationship with a powerful Bruxa.”

“Seriously?” You chuckled, amused. “You think, they filed each other's claws?” You laughed, looking up at Geralt.

“Wouldn't surprise me.” He smirked back at you, making Yennefer roll her eyes at both of you. “Where have the attacks happened?”

“Just outside our town, in the forest.” Rollo answered, getting up from his desk. “Allow me to show you.”

Leading the way through town, Rollo showed you the area in the woods, where the attacks happened. You, Geralt and Yennefer examined the area, finding the dried spots of blood, scratches on the surrounding trees and bits of torn clothing.

“When was the first attack?” You asked, picking up a brown, threadbare square of shirt and sniffing it.

“Again,” Rollo answered, glancing around nervously. “It's common for attacks to happen, so it is hard to pinpoint the exact time these particular attacks happened. But, if I had to estimate, a month of two ago.”

You stood and moved over to Geralt. “What do you think?” You asked, holding up the patch of fabric to his nose.

“Hm.” He grunted, taking a sharp breath and narrowed his eyes. “Smell like a Werewolf and a...” He took another sniff. “Bruxa.” He frowned at you, confused.

“You think, perhaps there's a Bruxa or Werewolf, living in Ellander, and the other just nests nearby, and their attacks are overlapping?” You inquired, glancing around.

“Perhaps, but the likeliness of it.” Geralt replied, looking around as well. “But, with all the likelihoods we've been through of late, anything seems more than possible.”

You nodded in agreement with him, a lot of things were strange and out of place of late.

“What did happen to you two up in Kovir?” Yennefer asked, eyeing you.

“Normal Witcher and Witch things.” You answered, dropping the bit of fabric and following Rollo back into town.

“Geralt!” A light voice called as he pushed open the busy inn door, making a growl rumbling in Geralt's chest.

“Jaskier.” He huffed, as the Bard pushed through the crowd.

“Jaskier.” Yennefer rolled her eyes.

“Yennefer.” Jaskier rolled his eyes back, but he perked up a moment later. “Y/n!” He smiled, brightly, seeing you coming in behind Yennefer. “It is marvelous to see you again, how are you?”

“I am rather well, Jaskier.” You grinned back, returning his hug. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, the life of a Bard and all that jazz.” He laughed, pulling back. “What are you all doing here?”

“There's a monster problem.” You replied, glancing around the packed bar. “Either, a Bruxa or a Werewolf, possibly both.” You filled him in, finding a table and sliding into the booth beside Geralt, who rested his hand on your thigh.

“So, the Ex.” He motioned to Yennefer. “and the current lover.” He looked at you, smiling. “How cheeky, Ger- OUCH!” Jaskier cried, rubbing at his kicked shin. “Which one of you did that!?” He demanded, looking between the three of you, like a kicked puppy.

“Jaskier, why don't you go find out if there's any more rooms available.” Geralt growled, kicking him in the shin again.

“What a fabulous idea, Geralt.” Jaskier squeaked, jumping up and scurrying over to the innkeeper.

“You think, it's both a Bruxa and a Werewolf?” Yennefer asked, settling her eyes on you and Geralt.

“Yes.” You replied, fixing her with a look that made Geralt squeeze your knee.

“I'm going to check out the area tonight.” Geralt spoke up, before either of you could go for the other's throat. “Alone.”

Both your and Yennefer's head snapped to look at him, giving him identical ' _are you crazy_ ' looks, that startled him for a moment. But, he lifted his brow at Yennefer and settled you with a reassuring expression. You heaved a sigh and relaxed, resting your hand on top of his.

“Fine.” You gave in. “But, if you're not back by morning, I'm coming to get you.”

“That's only fair.” Geralt nodded.

“You're in luck!” Jaskier grinned, hopping back over. “There's two rooms left.”

“Excellent.” Yennefer snapped, getting up and disappearing in the crowd.

“Why are you two so hostile?” Geralt asked, looking at you, sternly.

“Jealous ex-lover and possessive current lover.” Jaskier chimed in.

“Shut up, Jaskier.” Geralt snapped, growling at him.

“Yennefer and I, have never liked each other.” You explained, still staring after where she disappeared. “It goes back to when she was still at court with Aedirn.”

“What happened?” Jaskier asked, sliding into Yennefer's vacated seat across from you.

“She feels that I slighted her.” You answered, pouring a mug of ale that Jaskier brought back with him. “She, and the then king, were trying to arrange something between Aedirn and Kovir, when Eren and I were still together. My option was asked on the subject and was a leading factor to why it didn't happen. Yennefer has felt, if I hadn't _put my nose_ in it or sided with a _fellow_ Sorceress, then it would have happened. But, since I didn't, she's been notoriously salty towards me, and I'm not one to allow people to think they can treat me like that.”

“What was it she was trying to do?” Jaskier inquired, around the rim of his mug.

“Something better left in the past, Bard.” You answered, staring into your tankard.

“Why don't we go up to our room.” Geralt suggested, squeezing your hand. “Get settled in, then I'll go out tonight, and see what I can find.”

“All right.” You sighed, nodding your head and finishing off your ale, then got up. “It was nice seeing you again, Jaskier.” You said, patting him on the shoulder.

“You as well.” He smiled up at you.

“What was it, that you disagreed on?” Geralt asked, once in the privacy of the room.

“A war.” You said, simply, dropping Shadow's bags on the floor.

“With who?” He frowned, shaking his head.

“I don't know.” You sighed, dropping down on the bed. “All I knew was that they were looking for an alliance and aid from Kovir and Poviss to see it through.”

“Typical politics to be so slighted.” He commented, pulling his armor out of his bags.

“Doesn't take much to slight Mages.” You replied, lay back and rubbing your temples.

“So, it would seem.” Geralt answered, letting out a hard breath. “If I'm not back by first light, then come and find me.” He told you, standing at your feet.

“As you wish, Witcher.” You smirked, sitting up and letting him kiss you.

“And don't go fighting Yennefer, or you'll regret it.” He warned, going to the door.

“Oh, and how do you figure that?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“I'll figure it, by putting you over my knee.” He threw over his shoulder as he went out, your laugh following him down the hall.

– –

You slept fitfully and gave up trying to find any, so you pulled out the book of Dragary history and spells that Aero had lent you, reading it to pass the time til first light. You started to grow uneasy as the sky outside the filthy window of the room grew brighter.

“Geralt?” You called, a knock sounded on the door, as you got dressed to go out and find him, answering it. “Yennefer.” You sighed, seeing it was just her.

“Has Geralt come back?” She asked, looking you over.

“No, I'm just going out to find him.” You told her, moving back into the room to grab your backpack.

“I'm coming with you.” She said, following you downstairs.

“Fine.” You called over your shoulder. “Not like I could stop you anyway.” You added, trudging through the early morning street.

You and Yennefer retraced your steps back into the forest, where Rollo showed you were the attacks happened. You saw a small charred spot, where he'd obviously made a fire to keep warm, but there were no other signs of him.

“Geralt!” Yennefer yelled out, turning in a circle. “Shit, what could have happened him?” She asked, quietly.

“Something bad, I'm sure.” You answered, bending over the remains of the fire and touching the burned sticks.

“He gave you his medallion?” Yennefer's voice sounded shocked, as she watched it slip out of the neck of your shirt.

“Yes, he did.” You replied, straightening up, finding the fire was long cold, and touched the wolf medallion. “He gave it to me in Midmaw, after he found me.” You explained, glancing around.

“Where do you think he could be?” She asked you, changing the subject. “He couldn't have headed back to town, we would have ran into each other.”

“I don't know.” You answered, the uneasiness growing stronger.

You slipped your hand into your shirt, gripping the Orzac pendant and closed your eyes, whispering something in Dragary, and opened your eyes again, your dragon eyes shining as you looked around. The land around you changed, no longer the colorfulness of nearing Spring, but silver. The only other color you could see was red, the pulsing hearts of life; a rabbit coming out of his burrow or a bird flying through the trees, your hearing had increased as well, the line of your Dragon Mark throbbed.

“What are you doing?” Yennefer asked, startled by your change.

“Ssshh.” You hushed her, tilting your head and trying to isolate out the sounds of the forest, the sounds of Yennefer's body as she stood beside you.

Your right ear twitched, catching the sound of a slow, but rhythmic, beat. Like, a heart that beat four times slower than a human's. You turned your eyes in that direction and caught the slow pulse of red in the distance, and let go of the pendant and took off in that direction. You found Geralt sitting up against a birch tree, his chin resting against his chest, and knelt in front of him, pushing his head up. He looked fine, like he was just knocked out.

“Geralt.” You called to him, patting his cheek. “Geralt!” You barked, slapping him across the face, making your hand sting.

“Mmm!” Geralt groaned, his head snapping up and looking at you angrily for a moment, before he realized it was you. “What are you doing out here?” He demanded.

“Geralt, it's well after first light.” Yennefer told him, as you looked him over.

“Fuck.” He grunted, pushing himself up and staggering.

“What happened?” She asked him.

“I don't know.” He hissed, pressing his fingertips to his throbbing temple. “I set up camp, felt something behind me, but before I could look, I blacked out.”

“I smell blood.” You said, frowning at the metallic tang in the air.

“It's not mine.” Geralt moaned, shaking his head and taking several steps forward.

“Let me look at you.” You told him, trying to pull him to a stop.

“It's not mine.” He huffed at you, moving forward again, but faltered. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” You frowned, moving beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. “What's wrong?”

“I can't,” He blinked several times, looking confused. “I can't...feel my legs.” He looked down at his feet, before his body went limp against you.

“Fuck, Geralt.” You gasped, straining under his weight.

“Y/n?” He whined, looking at you, startled.

You were surprised to see how pale his face was all of a sudden. “Shit.” You looked back at Yennefer. “I'm portalling him back to the inn.” You told her, then did so.

Yennefer appeared a second later and helped you get Geralt into the bed. You struggled to get Geralt's shirt off and started checked very inch of his upper body, pushing him onto his side and doing the same with his back and found a bloody mark on the left side of his spine, the mark of a Bruxa claw.

“Fucking hell.” You gasped, touching it and making Geralt growl in protest. “You were attacked by a fucking Bruxa.” You told him, leaving him on his side and feeling around the wound, seeing small bluish veins around puncture mark. “I think, it's claw was poisoned, and the swelling from the wound and the poison as put pressure on your back, cutting off the feeling and use of your legs.” You explained, a ice cold knot in your stomach.

“If he's not healed, he'll end up paralyzed.” Yennefer blurted out. “Or the very least, die.”

“I am aware, thank you.” You snapped at her, picking up one of your bags.

Yennefer huffed at you and left the room, coming back a moment later with her herbs bag. “Then, do something.” She barked, digging through her bag.

“What do you think I'm doing?” You snapped back at her, mixing together a few herbs into a solution. “What are you doing?” You barked, grabbing Yennefer's wrist before she could press something to Geralt's wound. “Are you crazy?” You panted, seeing what it was. “That, will speed _up_ the poison.”

“You don't know what you're talking about!” Yennefer hissed at you, trying to yank her wrist free of your grasp. “You're going to get him killed.”

“Stop!” Geralt yelled, wincing. “Both of you are going to get me killed, with your bickering.” He panted, a cold sweat breaking out over his body. “Y/n knows what she's doing, Yennefer. Leave her be.” He warned her.

“How are you sure?” She asked, jealous and hurt.

“Because, I come from a long line of healers.” You told her, going back to the herbs you were mixing.

“Your family were farmers.” Yennefer rolled her eyes.

“No, my family are Dragons.” You confessed, not caring at the moment.

“Dragons!” Yennefer laughed, shaking her head. “and _you_ want _her_ to heal you, Geralt.”

“My parents were Ronar and Izzi, of the Dragary.” You explained, mixing in another herb. “My mother was a White Dragon, a healer.”

“This is crazy.”

“Look!” You barked, pulling the Orzac necklace out of your shirt and showed it to her. “Okay? Great! Now, excuse me.” You huffed, sitting on the bed beside Geralt. “Drink this.” You held it up to his lips, helping him sip it down. “It'll help reduce any swelling and reverse the poison.” You told him, brushing his damp hair out of his face, your expression worried and afraid. “I knew, I should have gone with you.” You sighed, rubbing his arm.

“Well, I have to get hurt once in a while, so you have to take care of me.” He replied, trying to give you an encouraging smile.

“You silly Witcher.” You shook your head, smiling back. “You don't need to get hurt, for me to care for you.” You scolded him, playfully.

“Now, she tells me.” He laughed, then groaned.

“Here.” You moved back to your bag, pulling out a vial of some clear liquid and gave him a small swallow of it. “It'll help with the pain.” You looked up, just recalling Yennefer was still in the room, as she went out. “Do you remember anything else, from last night?” You asked, gently soothing your hand over his side.

“No.” He replied, resting his head on your leg. “Just that cold feeling of something behind me.”

“Might need to revoke your Witchering card for this, Geralt.” You chuckled, stroking his hair off his sweaty face.

“Very funny.” He mumbled against your thigh. “It's cold in here.” He added, his voice faint.

You looked around, you were melting as the day warmed up and the fireplace roared. “Here.” You gently moved his head back to a pillow and stood up, pulling off your clothing and laid down with him, laying his head on your bare chest and draped his arm over your waist, hugging yourself against him. “Is that better?” You asked, stroking his hair and arm.

“Mmhm.” He mewled, nodding his head.

“Rest, me bleidd.” You whispered to him, listening to his labored breathing. “Don't, you die on me.” You mumbled into his hair. “Please.” You begged him.


	13. A Bruxa & A Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While trying to get Geralt well again, you try and figure out what attacked him, and the town of Ellander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a language for the Dragary, so I went to the Dragon Language I'm a whore of a geek for, Thu'um and Dragon Shouts from Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim! Here's a translator for it: [Thu'um, Dragon Speech](https://www.thuum.org/translator.php)

“Can you feel this?” You asked, pinching the bottom of Geralt's foot, making him jerk it away from you. “That's good.” You smiled at him. “Means the swelling has gone down. But, I don't understand why the poison hasn't left your blood.” You added, picking up a cloth to wipe away the sweat on his brow.

“It is rather strange.” He answered, pushing the sheet down his hips.

“Are we sure this thing is a Bruxa?” You asked, pulling the sheet back up. “Do remember, you're naked under that.” You chuckled, shaking your head at him.

“You're the only one in the room with me, me minne.” He smirked at you, kicking the sheet off.

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled, bursting in the door. “How are you feeling!” He asked, then looked over at the Witcher. “Gods, you're pale.” He said, closing the door behind him.

“Is that _all_ you notice?” You asked, blushing with amusement.

Jaskier paused for a moment, “Oh!” He laughed. “Oh yeah, no. I've seen Geralt naked _many_ times.”

“Is that so?” You smirked at Geralt.

“Oh, yeah! I use to rub Chamomile on his _lovely_ bottom.” Jaskier grinned at Geralt, making him growl.

“Chamomile.” You grinned, watching as Geralt turned bright red with annoyance at Jaskier and embarrassment with you. “He does have a lovely bottom, though.” You agreed, looking over at Jaskier.

Geralt jerked the sheet back over his naked bits. “What do you want, Bard?” He growled, looking up at him.

“I wanted to check on my friend.” Jaskier answered, planting his hands on his hips.

“You're no-”

“That's very sweet of you, Jaskier.” You cut Geralt off, eyeballing him.

“I'm glad _someone_ thinks so.” the Bard replied, giving Geralt a similar look.

“All right, the both of you.” He huffed, scowling between you. “I'm fine!”

“You are not!” You protested, shaking your head. “The poison, whatever the hell it is, hasn't broken.”

“Why not?” Jaskier frowned, concern filling his youthful face.

“I don't know.” You sighed, rubbing your tired face. “I've given him every herb and concoction of medicine I can, to try and break it.”

“I'll be all right.” Geralt said softly, trying to quell the stressed worry on your and Jaskier's faces.

“You better,” You chided him. “because you don't have any other option.”

“I agree with y/n, Geralt.” Jaskier chimed in, nodding his head.

“I want to check it out.” You blurted out.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said in a clear voice, his eyes glued to you as you stood with your back to him. “Please, leave.”

Jaskier's eyes flared at Geralt's use of _please_. “Of course.” He nodded, backing out of the room.

“Absolutely, _not_.” Geralt growled, once the door closed after Jaskier. “You are not going out there, alone.”

“Oh, but you could!” You snapped, turning to face him.

“Yes, I'm a Witcher, it's my job too.” He argued, concern in his gold eyes.

“And look where that fucking got you!” You yelled, squeezing your hands into fists.

“Yes, _look_ where it got me!” He sighed, running a hand down his sweaty face. “It almost killed me. I _will not_ have you in danger like that.”

You heaved a heavy sigh, and sat down on the bed. “Geralt, we need to find out what it was that attacked you, and with what. Not only that, we came here to deal with whatever it is.” You reasoned with him. “I understand, you're just being protective of me, but, I'm not some innocent and defenseless Sorceress.”

“I know, you're not.” Geralt answered, his voice soft. “Just, let me get well enough first, then we'll _both_ go.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “All right.” You give in.

“Come here.” He said, gently, opening his arms to you.

Smirking, You scooted up and laid your head on his chest, relaxing as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, hugging you against his cool and damp skin, and rested his cheek against your hair. You laid like that with him for a long time, before moving away and pressed your hand to his forehead. Despite his skin being clammy and cool, Geralt's forehead burned torrid with a high fever, which only added to your growing concern and fears about whatever type of poison he'd been effected by. Getting up, you sifted through your herbs and potions, then sighed, when you didn't find what you were looking for.

“What's wrong?” Geralt's sleepy voice asked behind you.

“Your fever is worse.” You answered, turning to him and pressing a stressed hand to your own forehead. “I need to make a trip to the apothecary's.” You told him, pulling on your boots. “I'll be back in a few minutes, don't you try and get out of bed, or I'll turn _you_ over _my_ knee.” You warned him, going out the door and stopped in the hallway for a moment before going down to Jaskier's room.

“Hey, y/n.” He smiled, opening his room door. “Is everything all right?”

“I need to go to the apothecary's.” You explained to him, chewing your lip. “Could you keep an eye on Geralt, in case anything changes.”

“Of course.” Jaskier nodded, a crease forming on his smooth skin.

“Make sure he doesn't get out of bed, either.” You added, over your shoulder, as you went down the stairs.

You picked your way through the streets of Ellander, looking for their apothecary's shop and had to stop a kid in the street to do so. A smell hit you, as you entered the shop, a small bell above the door chiming as you stepped inside. All apothecary shops had a similar scent, dried herbs and odd balms, but above those scents, something else caught the attention of your nose; dried blood. Your eyes narrowed as you moved farther into the dim space, the smoky air fragrant with incenses that were burning in various places around the shop. You didn't see anyone standing behind the counter or heard anyone moving about, it felt vacated, but something deep in your gut told you otherwise.

“Hello?” You called out, resting your palms on the front counter. “Anyone?” You called again, leaning over the counter to see into the back, then snapped your head around, finding a beautiful young woman standing eerily behind you.

“How can I help you?” She asked, smiling sweetly at you.

“I'm looking for Elderflowers.” You told her, feeling an odd creep to your skin at her proximity to you. “And yarrow.” You said, holding her eyes.

“Someone sick at home?” she asked, turning on her heels and moving through the haze

“Yeah, _my husband_.” You nodded, following after her and taking a careful deep breath in her direction, catching the faint whiff of blood. “He got caught in the rain, the silly man.” You explained, watching her climb a ladder to take down the large jar of dried Elderflower.

“Men are _careless_ , like that.” She agreed, sweeping her head to the side, to brush her raven black hair over her shoulder. “Hopefully, this will help his discomfort.” She said, measuring out some of the dried flower, then went to grab the yarrow and measured it out. “Twenty gold.” She said, tucking the dry herbs into gauze packets.

“Thank you.” You smiled at her, dropping the gold into her palm and took the packets. “I'm y/n, by the way.” You added, meeting her eyes again.

“Iona.” She smiled back, but the sweetness of her smile didn't meet her dark brown eyes, giving them an almost sinister look.

“Pleasure.” You nodded your head to her.

“Same.” Iona nodded her head back.

You felt her eyes on your back as you left, you made it well to the end of the street, before you stopped and shook your head, shaking off the feeling of uneasiness. “I'm not that easy, you crazy bitch.” You whispered under your breath, knowing the feeling of someone trying to crack into your mind. “How is he?” You asked, coming back into your room and saw Geralt asleep, Jaskier sat in a chair at his bedside, slipping through your book.

“He's a bit fussy, mumbling in his sleep, well, that's not unusual.” Jaskier frowned, setting your book down and looking over at Geralt. “But, he's doing it a little more than usual. He's been calling for you.”

“He does that a lot.” You sighed, standing at the foot of the bed.

“Yennefer also stopped by to check on him, but left, when she saw he was asleep.” He added, standing up.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on him, Jaskier.” You said, smiling faintly at him.

“Of course, what's a friend for.” He smiled back, then patted your shoulder and went back to his room.

You picked up the ewer from the table and set it on to boil and prepared a cup of Elderflower and Yarrow tea for him, both of them combine should help break the fever that was raging through his strong body. Sighing, you stood by the open window, waiting for the water to finish boiling, and watched the bustle of the town below.

“Is he gone?” Geralt's weak voice asked, making you smirk.

“He is.” You nodded, turning towards him. “I'm making you some Elderflower and Yarrow tea, it'll help your fever.” You told him, pulling the boiling water out of the hearth and pouring over the herbs. “I think, I found the Bruxa as well.” You added, stirring the tea.

“I told you, not to go out there alone.” Geralt complained, turning onto his back and propping himself up against the headboard.

“I didn't.” You shook your head, straining the herbs out. “I found her in the apothecary's, of all places.” You explained, taking the steaming cup to him.

“The Bruxa is the apothecary?” He frowned at you, carefully sipping the tea.

“It would seem so.” You nodded, sitting down in Jaskier's vacated chair. “She smelled of dry blood, she's young, beautiful, and has pure black hair.”

“That fits the description of a Bruxa.” Geralt agreed with you. “Now, I just need to get better.”

You glanced at your Dragary book and narrowed your eyes, picking it up, and started flipping though it. Geralt watched you flip through the book with a lifted brow and sipping his tea, he knew what you were doing, you were seeing if there was a Dragarian spell that could reverse the effects of the poison wrecking havoc in his body. You smirked, finally finding a spell that could possibly remove the poison, and looked up at him, your eyes dancing with hope.

“You find something?” He asked, setting his finished cup down.

“I did.” You grinned, nodding your head.

“Well, let's see if it works.” He told you, ready to get over it.

“All right, here's to hoping, I don't accidentally turn you into a rabbit or a table.” You laughed, nervously, then looked around and picked up an empty vial.

“What's that for?” Geralt asked, lifting a brow at you.

“I want to collect some of it, and find out what the hell it is.” You told him. “Sit up.” You instructed him and rested your hand on his shoulder, focusing. “ _Bo Daar Viidost Nol Rok, Vokrii Rok_.” You said the passage in a clear voice, the Orzac pendant heating up and your eyes shifting into their Dragon form.

Geralt hissed, face pinching in discomfort, and you looked at the slowly healing wound on his back and watched a thick white substance start to seep out of the wound. You carefully pressed the lip of the vial to his wound, catching a good amount of the seepage in it, before setting it aside and gently wiping it away with a cloth. Once all of the poison seeped out of his wound, you pressed your palm to it, feeling your hand grow warm as you did.

“ _Vokrii Nu_.” You whispered, and felt the skin of Geralt's back shift, making him hiss again, as it pulled together and closed the wound completely, leaving only a faint pinkish circle behind. “It worked.” You laughed, relieved and impressed.

“I never doubted your abilities once, me minne.” Geralt grinned, tipping his head back to look up at you.

“Well, at least, one of us didn't.” You laughed again, blushing. “How do you feel?” You asked, laying your hand on his forehead, that was thankfully cooler than it had been in the last two days, his color was coming back and his skin was warmer.

“Still a bit tired, but a lot better than I had been.” He assured you, resting back again. “Your mother would be so proud of you, y/n.” He smiled at you, tenderly.

You blushed even harder, moving away from him to put your herbs and things away, since you wouldn't be needing them anymore. “Good. Why don't we go and check out the sight tomorrow night, _together_.” You suggested, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Give you a little extra time to rest.”

“I'm good with that.” Geralt agreed, his head tilting as he watched you move about the room, righting things and tucking them away in the bags. “Come rest with me, minne.” He whispered to you, he could see the dark circles under your eyes and the slight shake to your hands; you hadn't slept since before he got hurt and you only ate if Jaskier brought up a plate for you and him. “You've earned it, and I don't need you running yourself into the ground.” He told you, fixing you with an expression between concern and daring you to argue.

“Very well.” You gave in without even seeing the look on his face and crawled into bed with him, letting him cocoon you against his body and under the blankets.

“I love you, y/n.” He whispered, his lips brushing the rim of your earlobe.

“I love you, Geralt.” You smiled back, already well on your way to falling sleep.

– –

You knelt low to the ground with your back resting against Geralt's, as the pair of you scanned the treeline in front of you, getting a strange case of déjà vu as you did. It wasn't long after sundown, when you and Geralt reached the woods surrounding Ellander, the post-winter chill seeped through your clothing and skin, deep into your bones, but the warmth of Geralt's body pressed back against yours kept the shivers at bay. Your ears twitched at a sound nearby, a faint rustle of leaves to your left and turned your head that way, but caught the outline of a rabbit, and brushed it off.

“What?” You whispered, almost soundlessly, not wanting to chance the Bruxa hearing you, if she was out, nearby.

“Smell.” Geralt whispered back the same.

You drew a deep breath and grimaced at the revolting smell, making your stomach raise into your throat. “Wet dog.” You mumbled, letting out a hard breath to dislodge the smell from your nose, before you really did puke.

“Werewolf.” Geralt replied, shifting feet and carefully slipping a potion out of his pouch, slowly standing. “Can you find it?” He asked, back still pressed to yours as you stood with him.

“I can try.” You answered. “Paar.” You muttered under your breath, your eyes changing and the darkness around you inverting to that silvery color; you turned in a slow circle, but noticed no heart signatures. “Wherever it is, it's not close.” You told him, doing another turn.

Nodding his head and downing the potion, Geralt followed the scent on the breeze coming towards you. You kept your sight the same, scanning around for any signs of the werewolf, and stopped, tilting your head at two faint pulses of red, far to the right of where you and Geralt stood. You rested your hand on his back and pointed in that direction. Geralt could just make out their outline with the aid of his potion, and nodded his head at you, motioning for you to move from one side as he moved from the other. Taking the hint, you moved away from him, circling around to the left of the two figures, watching the red strobe of their hearts grow stronger as you got closer. Blinking several times to clear your vision, you squatted behind a tree at the very edge of the firelight that was burning in the figures' camp; glancing across and catching a quick glimpse of Geralt.

In the middle of the camp, close to the firelight was the woman from the apothecary's and a _huge_ werewolf, standing up, but hunched over and panting heavily, foamy drool dripping from its nasty and fierce jaws. Near the fire, hogtied and gagged was the squirming figure of a young man, his terrified eyes panning between Iona and the wolf, now that you were close enough, you could smell the amount of fear rolling of the poor kid's body. Iona stroked the werewolf's face, making cooing noises at it and weird faces a mother would at her frightened child.

“Such a good doggy.” She cooed, scratching the wolf's dripping chin. “Yes, you are. Such a good doggy for Mommy.” She laughed, making your skin crawl. “Did you bring your Mommy a sweet treat?”

The wolf sniffed at her hand and gave it a gentle lick.

“Good Boy.” Iona chuckled, then knelt beside the man and stroked his cheek, making the wolf grow with jealousy. “Oh, hush, Rollo.” She chided him. “You know, only you're Mommy's good boy. He's just Mommy's snack.”

You looked wide eyed at Geralt, who gave you a narrow eyed look. _Rollo_ , the Werewolf was Ellander's Alderman, Rollo; that was quite the plot twist, you hadn't expect. You looked back to the camp, seeing Iona lean closer to the man, his blue eyes were pinpoint focused on her as she stroked his chocolate brown curls off his sweaty forehead.

“Such a lovely face, shame it won't last.” She smirked and her skin rippled, revealing her true nature.

The man's pupils blew out, realizing what the beautiful woman was and really started struggling against his bonds. You looked back at Geralt, but noticed he was gone and frowned back at the camp, and noticed Rollo had disappeared too.

“Oh, great.” You sighed, imagining the worse. “Don't get yourself turned, Geralt.” You muttered to yourself, standing up and stepping just into the edge of the firelight. “Out picking herbs this late, Iona?” You asked, gaining her attention.

“What are you doing here?” Iona hissed, her fangs bared at you.

“I enjoy midnight walks in the moonlight.” You deadpanned, smirking smugly. “Disgruntled lover?” You asked, flicking a hand at the man.

“My dinner.” She answered, flexing her sharp claws.

“Well, now I feel really bad.” You frowned, shaking your head at her. “Getting revenge on a disgruntled lover is one thing, but interrupting a meal; that's just going against the manners my mother taught me.”

“Then, turn around and walk away.” Iona growled at you.

You looked at the man, seeing his pleading eyes. “I can't do that.” You told her, resting your hand on your sword.

“You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Human.” She barked at you, her face twitching with anger.

“I'm not human, Vampire.” You sighed, slowly drawing your blade. “I'm a Sorceress, and a dragon.” You chuckled at her, the red Dragirium glinting in the dancing camp fire.

Iona snorted at you and started to slowly circle you, claws ever flexing, readying herself to attack you at the best possible moment. Your ears twitched with the howl of a dog in the distance, no doubt the werewolf Geralt was engaged with.

“Your _husband_?” Iona asked, knowing that Geralt had come with you.

You turned your head that way, giving the minor distraction Iona needed to lunge, shrieking at you, full volume. You snapped your head sideways as she swiped at you with her claws, you watched slowly as her claws pass an inch from your face, and smelt the tang of poison on them, falling back a step as she righted the motion of her arm to come towards your face and throat. Letting the tip of your blade fall in a half circle and gripping the handle in both hands, you dropped to your knee and drove the, forever, sharp tip through the top of her foot, her shrill cry of pain made your vision throb. Driving your shoulder into her chest as you stood, sent her fly and crashing onto her back.

“Tell me,” You panted, righting your sword in your hands. “What poison do you dip your claws in?”

“Dart Frog toxin.” She hissed at you, getting back to her feet.

“Clever.” You nodded, impressed and dodged her next attack, growling as you felt the her claw catch the back of your shoulderblade.

“So, sad.” Iona taunted you, seeing the gash. “This is where _you_ die.” She laughed, licking her fangs.

“That's what you would think.” You panted, your eyes rolling into your head for a moment.

“That unnaturally fast heart beat.” She grinned, head tilting side to side as she listened to your heart pound. “I knew, you weren't human, when you came into my shop.”

“Yet, you called me one.” You huffed, your lungs starting to scream.

“An insult.” Iona replied, moving closer to you and watching the poison take effect on you. “Such a waste of a beautiful face.” She cooed at you, lifting your head with her claw. “I would have loved to have seen how you are in bed.” She chuckled, dragging the tip of her claw down the side of your neck.

You gritted your teeth against the pain, feeling your lips go numb. “ _Fus Ro Dah_.” You mumbled, wavering on your feet and sent Iona soaring backward with a shockwave that was stronger than an Aard; some primal part of you had kicked in and the Dragary language came flawlessly to you. “ _Tiid Klo Ul_.” You muttered, feeling time slow down around you, lifting your sword and moving forward towards Iona, raising it up high, in slow motion. “ _Su Grah Dun_.” You thought, more than spoke, everything speeding up suddenly and allowed you to move faster the Iona, driving your sword through her heart and twisted it.

Time resumed naturally and you let go of your sword, still staked through her body, staggered and dropped to your knees. “ _Gaar-Daar-Viidost-Nol-Zu'u_.” You mumbled out together, the ground around you spinning and tilting at a nauseating and alarming speed. The thick white toxin seeped out of the wound in your neck and back, making you feel somewhat better.

You dropped onto your hands and knees, crawling over to the man, still gagged and hogtied by the fire. Fumbling in your boot, you took out a small knife and cut the bonds round his hands and feet, letting him pull the gag from his own mouth, as you sat back heavily on your heels.

“Thank you.” He panted, sitting up and looking at you, deep concern all over his face. “Are you all right?” He asked, resting his hands on your shoulders and tried to get you to look him in the eyes.

“I'll be fine.” You panted, licking your dry and still numb lips. “What's your name?” You asked, blinking at him, but your vision was too fuzzy to see his face clearly.

“Henry.” He told you, still really concerned.

“Run.” You panted, hearing Rollo's howl again, close. “Run, Henry.”

“I can't leave you like this.” He protested, his head snapping around, trying to place where the werewolf was.

“You can, unless you want to die with me.” You said, resting your hands on his chest and pushing him away from you, dragging yourself to your feet. “Now, fuck off.” You growled, the heat of the Orzac pendant burned your skin and you felt your strength start to grow again. “NOW!” You howled, startling him as your eyes shined and you yanked your sword from Iona's chest.

He didn't need to be told again, standing up and taking off back towards the town. You glanced around, ears pricking up to the sound of another howl and stumbled after it. The scent of wet dog and blood leading you to finding Geralt sparing with the Werewolf, his sword lost in the dirt, during the struggle. You huffed, laughing and shaking your head, a smirk tugging on one side of your face, this must have been what Geralt had experienced, when he stumbled upon you fighting the Bruxa. Gripping your sword in two hands and raising it over your head, you threw it, making it sail through the air with a whoosh and pierce through its thick and black fur covered neck. It dropped instantly to the ground and Geralt stared at it for a moment, before turning his head in your direction, a look of utter shock and disbelief.

You held up a hand to him, nodding your head. “Yeah, yeah. I know, I know.” You cut him off as his mouth opened, his hand motioning to the wolf's body, as it shifted back into the alderman. “You had it.” You waved him off. “But, fair is fair, and so is pay back, for when you did it to me.”

Geralt closed his mouth, hand dropping to his side and rolled his eyes at you, yanking your sword out of Rollo's neck. “The Bruxa?” He asked, as you bent and picked up his sword from the ground.

“Dead.” You replied, touching the cut on the side of your neck.

“Y/n.” Geralt's eyes went wide seeing it.

“It's fine.” You sighed, rubbing at your dirty and bloody face. “I already removed the poison, and set free the kid she was going to eat.” You looked him over and saw claw marks across his chest and one on his thick thigh. “He didn't bite you, did he?” You asked, lifting a brow at him. “I highly doubt there's a spell in Dragarian to reverse that.” You quipped, handing him his sword as he held out yours.

“No.” He shook his head, looking over his own wounds. “Just claws.” He assured you, looking down at Rollo. “Pity, you killed him. He was the one that's supposed to pay us.”

You laughed, the sound carrying on the cold night air. “I'm sure, there's a second-in-command, or we can get Foltest to pay us.” You told him, sheathing your sword and staggering for moment, causing Geralt to wrap an arm around your waist to steady you.

“For curing yourself, you are really burning up.” He commented, seeing the hot flush to your face and the sweat pouring off you.

“I might have missed some of it.” You replied, your energy melting to nil again. “I did, sorta, mumble it all into one word.”

“Do you have enough energy to portal us back to the inn?” He asked, holding you against his side.

“No.” You shook your head, resting your forehead against the side of his arm. “I don't have the energy to breathe.”

“Fuck.” He snapped, scooping you up into his arms. “I'll carry you, then.” He said, turning towards the town. “ _Wife_.”

You lifted your head off his shoulder and narrowed your eyes at him. “Huh?”

“I heard the Bruxa call me _your husband_.” He chuckled, smirking at you.

“Oh, that.” You mewled, laying your head back down. “I was sure, she knew who I came into the shop for. So, just said it was for _my husband_ , to try and throw her off a bit.”

“Smart, but I doubt it worked.” He commented, shifting his arms to hold you better.

“Well,” You sighed, closing your eyes. “I can't always get it right.” You mumbled, drifting off.


	14. Two Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Bruxa and Werewolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me ddraig - My Dragon

“What happened to her?” Yennefer's voice called, as Geralt carried you up the stairs to the room in the inn you'd been staying at.

“A Bruxa.” Geralt answered, kicking the room door open and laying you down on the bed. “Y/n?” He whispered, brushing your hair out of your face. “It'll be all right, I'll take care of you.” He told you, wiping the sweat from your extremely flushed face.

“She looks like she bathed in lava.” Jaskier commented, a deep concern on his brow.

“She feels like it too.” Yennefer added, touching your upper arm, and looked up at Geralt as he tore through your bags. “What are you looking for, Geralt?”

“These.” Geralt panted, finding the gauze packets of dried Elderflower and Yarrow, tearing them open. “She used it to break my fever.” He explained, moving about the room to get everything he needed to brew the tea.

“I don't know, if this is a fever, Geralt.” Yennefer said, frowning down at you, seeing bright gold and red lines appearing out of the neck of your shirt.

“Either way, it might help reduce her body temperature enough, that she doesn't end up cooked.” Geralt said, straining the tea. He set the cup down on the bedside table and sat you up against his chest, then carefully held the cup to your lips. “Drink, minne.” He whispered into your hair, tipping it up gently.

You were barely conscious enough to sip down the hot and flowery liquid, some of it dribbling down your chin as you started to struggle swallowing. Geralt set the cup aside and used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe your mouth, cradling your body against his, he could feel the incredible burn of your body against his, even through the layers of clothing.

“I remember, once.” Jaskier piped up, suddenly. “When I was a wee lad, I had a very bad fever, my Ma took me to the stream, near home, and bathed me in it.” He said, recalling the moment. “The cold water helped cool me down.” He explained, wringing his hands as he looked at Geralt, hopeful that he helped give him an idea of what to do.

“The mountain spring.” Yennefer added in, nodding her head. “The local bathhouse has a mountain spring in it, it's not heated like the rest of the pools are, and it's private.” She explained, elaborating on Jaskier's point.

“Where is it?” Geralt asked, looking between the two.

“I'll show you.” Yennefer said, getting up.

Geralt gathered you into his arms again ad followed Yennefer. “Ssshhh, Baeg yn.” He shushed you as you whimpered, restlessly, the high temperature of your body starting to affect your dreams. “I've got you, me minne. You'll be all right, I won't let anything happen to you.” He cooed at you, as Yennefer guided you both down the winding stone staircase into the lower level of the bath house, the flow of falling water reaching his ears before Yennefer pushed open a wooden door, leading into a private and torch lit room.

“Is there anything I can do, to help?” Yennefer asked, watching Geralt carefully lay you down on a stone bench inside the room.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded, licking his lips and turning towards her. “In Pont Vanis, there's an Elven Mage, his name is Aero. He knows a great deal about the Dragarians, perhaps he knows what's going on with her, I don't dare take her so far, unless the purpose is solid.” He told her, turning back to you as you whimpered his name, and took your hand in his. “Can you, _please_ , go there to him and tell him what's going on with her, find out if there's anything we can do...” He trailed off for a moment.

Yennefer had never seen Geralt's face so soft, affectionate and worried in the years she'd known him, even when they were lovers; a part of it made her incredibly jealous.

“Before she..dies.” He whispered so softly, Yennefer almost missed it over the roar of the water fall.

“I'll go.” She nodded, a icy cold knot tightening in her stomach as she portalled away.

“Geralt.” You whimpered again, squeezing his hand.

“I'm here, y/n.” He whispered back, pressing his lips to your searing forehead. “I'm going to help you cool off.” He told you, carefully removing your ruined clothing, then his own and picked you up, carrying you into the pool of water, hissing as the cold water wrapped around his naked thighs.

“Oooh!” You gasped with a jolt, as Geralt sat down on the submerged seat, dipping you into the frigid water. “Fuck!” You panted and looked back at Geralt. “What the fuck?”

“You're running an extremely high temperature.” He told you, holding his arms around your waist and keeping you in his lap. “It was Jaskier's suggestion.”

“It would be.” You answered, your breathing evening out as you shivered a bit. “What..” You frowned, looking down at your chest and saw the bright red and gold spot between your breasts, veins of it bleeding out over your body, but they slowly receded as the cold water seeped into your skin.

“It started happening, not long after I got you back to the inn.” Geralt explained, frowning at it and carefully touched the center of it, hissing as it burned the tip of his finger.

“Dovah Sil.” You whispered, mouth dropping open as you realized what it was.

“What?” Geralt shook his head, brows drawing closer together.

“Dragon's Heart.” You repeated in common tongue.

“Dragon heart, what's that supposed to mean.” He asked, not liking the gut feeling he was getting.

“I have... _two_...hearts.” You told him, gulping. “The heart of a human and the heart of a dragon.”

“So,...” His eyes narrowed, trying to understand.

“It seems, my human heart..” You gulped down the dizzying lump of nausea. “has stopped.”

“Has what?” Geralt's eyes started to grow.

“The Bruxa poison, must have stopped my human heart, and that only leaves my Dragon heart, which is too strong for my human body.”

“How do you know this?” He asked, confused and scared.

“The book, Aero gave me.” You answered. “It explains all of it, and you can hear it. My heartbeat isn't as strong, because only one is beating now. I have the human heart to keep my human body alive, the Dragon heart is for when I shift into my Dragon form, a human heart is much too small to power it.”

Geralt could hear how much weaker your heartbeat was, but he had just chalked it down for being the affect of the poison. “What do we do?” He asked, meeting your eyes. “What's it mean? And, how do we fix it?”

“I don't know what we do.” You sighed, resting against him. “It means, the power of my Dragon heart is too much for my human body, it's...” You looked back down at your chest. “It's tearing my human body apart, and I don't know how to fix it either.”

“This is going to... _kill_ you.” Geralt whimpered, with dawning realization. “If we don't find a cure.”

You rested your forehead against Geralt's temple, nodding. “Very likely.” You whispered, with a sigh. “And, I'm concerned, once I leave the cold water, the heat of my body, will overwhelm me again.” You added, feeling the cold water lap at your sides, then warm against the intense heat your body was overproducing.

“What if, you shifted?” Geralt asked, abruptly. “into Dragon form. It's supposed to take the punishment of that heart.”

“It very much could.” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I would just have to stay conscious long enough to do it.” You chuckled, nuzzling his face, seeing how worried he was. “I'll be fine, me bleidd.” You whispered into his ear. “We'll figure this out.” You promised him, kissing his jaw. “We just may need to have a visit to my Grandfather.” You added, even quieter.

– –

You and Geralt agreed, before getting out of the cold pool of water, that you needed to return to Kovir and Poviss, and find your Grandfather, he was the one that could help you, having given the gift of a human body to your parents all those years ago. Geralt left you in the pool long enough to make arrangements, and grab your things.

“What about Roach?” You asked, still standing in the bathhouse pool, and looking up at Geralt.

“Jaskier already promised take care of him, he'll be taking him back to his home in Rinde.” He explained. “When we get you well again, we'll go to Rinde and retrieve him.”

“You're going to entrust your _not friend_ with your beloved horse?” You asked, highly amused.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at you, pressing his lips together. “As much as I love Roach,” He said, jerking his pants on. “ _You_ are much more beloved and important to me.” He told you, slipping his shirt on over his head.

“How are _you_ getting there?” You asked him, lifting a brow at him. “Since, I can't portal in Dragon form.”

“Yennefer.” He said her name, simply.

“Right.” You nodded, sighing.

“You need to conserve your energy to shift and fly to the mountains.” He told you, kneeling by the edge of the water. “You'll need to fly rather high, to keep out of sight.”

You nodded, lowering your eyes to the reflection in the water. “I'll go out to the woods and do it, it's the best secluded area.”

“Take me with you.” Geralt said softly. “I want to make sure no one sees and tries to harm you, and in case something happens to you, that you can't.”

You sighed and nodded again, as Yennefer came in. “We're going to the woods, so I can shift.” You told her. “Come with us.” You said, reaching your hand out to her.

Yennefer gazed you for a moment, then took your hand. Geralt grabbed your things and took a hold of your hand. You took a moment to gather your strength, and portalled all three of you deep into the surrounding woods of Ellander, falling against Geralt's body as you arrived. Geralt held you, closing his cloak around your naked body.

“Are you sure, you have the strength to do this?” Yennefer asked, genuinely looking concerned.

“If I don't do it now, I will never have the strength to do it.” You told her, looking up at Geralt and holding his gaze. “I will meet you in Midmaw, go see Ethos and Emela. If I'm not there in by tomorrow evening...” You glanced at Yennefer. “Don't look for me.”

“What do you mean, don't look for you?” Geralt growled, upset by your words.

“Chances are, she'll be dead, Geralt.” Yennefer answered for you. “There'll be nothing we can do, at that point. It'll be fruitless to look for her body.”

“Whatever is left.” You added, ominously, as you stood on your tip toes and kissed him, like it was the last time you ever would.

“We _will_ see each other again, at Midmaw.” Geralt told you, stubbornly.

You rested your hand on his cheek and smiled. “Of course, me bleidd.” You told him, kissing his other cheek and stepping away from them, the golden red pulse of your chest glowed in the dying light of the day. “Stin Zu'u.” You snapped, uttering the Dragarian spell to shift. You pulse quickened and grew more intense, your silver eyes glowed and your pupils thinned. “Ah!” You whined as the first snap of bone vibrated through your skeleton and your pale skin rippled.

“My god.” Yennefer gasped, utterly aghast as she watched you start to change into your Black Dragon form. “She really _is_ a Dragon.”

“I told you.” Geralt growled, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back several steps as your change completed, blinking up at you. “Y/n.” He whispered, stepping closer to you.

You lowered your mighty head close to Geralt's head, very gently touching the tip of your vast nose to his forehead. “ _Geralt_.” You whispered through his mind with an odd rumble to your voice.

“You are magnificent.” He whispered, resting his hand on your lower jaw.

A rumbling sound bubbled up from your long neck and a strong breath washed over his face, stirring his hair; a laugh. “I will see you soon, me bleidd.” You told him, unfolding your wings from your body.

“And I you, me ddraig.” He replied, stepping back.

You beat your wings several times, causing a strong breeze around Geralt and Yennefer, before pushing up and taking flight, hovering for a moment, then gracefully turning your massive black body towards Midmaw, your onyx scales shining, like prisms, in the dying sunlight, and rose higher and higher in the sky, until you blended in with the growing night.

“I told you, she wasn't lying.” Geralt said, turning to look at Yennefer.

“Well, that's fucking obvious.” Yennefer laughed, turning away from where she watched you vanish. “Should we get to Midmaw?” She asked, sighing heavily.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded, shifting the bags against his shoulders and Yennefer opened a portal and they both stepped through it, arriving in Midmaw in the blink of an eye.

– –

Geralt led Yennefer to Ethos and Emela's house.

“Witcher!” Emela beamed up at him, throwing her arms around him, making Geralt feeling awkward for a moment, no one ever greeted him like that, other than you and Jaskier. “Oh, who is the lovely lady?” She asked, spotting Yennefer behind him. “Where's y/n?” She asked, looking back at Geralt, when she didn't see you anywhere.

“She's on her way here.” Geralt answered. “Is Ethos home?” he asked.

“No, he's out dealing with a disorderly gentlemen, he should be home anytime, though.” She replied, looking deeply concerned as she let Geralt and Yennefer in. “Why hasn't y/n come with you?”

“I'll explain it, when Ethos comes.” He told her, gently patting her on the shoulder. “This is Yennefer, she's another Sorceress.” He introduced to two ladies.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Emela beamed at Yennefer. “Are you a Mage friend of y/n's?”

“Um, sort of.” Yennefer grinned, trying to be polite.

“Oh, that's fabulous.” The older lady giggled. “Are you two hungry?” She asked, looking between them. “I just took a roast out of the oven.”

“That sounds lovely, Emela.” Geralt smiled at her, taking a seat at the dinner table.

“Well, you're at home, Geralt.” Yennefer commented, sitting across from him as Emela shuttled herself off to the kitchen.

Geralt looked around the shabby alderman's home, he hadn't completely thought about it, but he did find a teeny bit of peace here in Midmaw, because it held memories of you. “I do, I suppose. So much transpired between me, y/n, Ethos, Emela and the small village, that part of me is connected to it, unlike any of the other places I've been too.” He answered her. “Ethos and Emela are like family to y/n--”

“I was the one that helped birth y/n into this cruel world.” Emela said, coming into the room holding two steaming plates of roast, boiled potatoes with gravy, mushrooms and vegetables. “Her mother, Queen Izzi of the Dragary Kingdom, also entrusted me to find her a safe and loving home.” She explained, setting the plates down in front of them.

“So, you raised her?” Yennefer asked, picking up her fork.

“Oh, no.” Emela laughed, then went back into the kitchen to get them both a mug of ale. “I sent her down to raised by my family, to be raised on their farm, near Marnadal.” She said, coming back serving them their drinks, and sat down at the end of the table. “My sister and her husband had been trying for children for a long time, but couldn't have any. So, when y/n came into my care, after her parents were threatened, and later killed, I knew they were the best and safest place for her.”

“And they were.” Geralt agreed, taking a bite of food.

“That they were.” Emela smiled at him, sweetly. “They loved her as their own blood and flesh, until the day they died.”

“How did they die?” Yennefer asked, sipping her ale.

“Alain died of an illness, a lifetime ago it seems,” Emela frowned, sad.”and my sister, Sanne, died of a broken heart, not long after.”

“Did they know, that y/n was a Princess and a Dragon in human form?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I promised her parents to never to disclose her true birth.”

“Then, how did she find out?” Yennefer asked, shaking her head.

“The creature that was plaguing the village, was her cousin.” Geralt sighed, resting back in his chair. “He came to kill the remaining Dragarians, they didn't actually kill themselves, then intended to find and kill her.”

“But, she just happened to stumble here..”

“Y/n was married to Eren Thyssen, Tankred's aunt's son.” Emela explained, noticing Geralt's awkward discomfort as she mentioned it. “He died a long time ago, but because of the connection, Tankred asked y/n to come here and investigate the occurrence, it was a shock to find out that the monster was really her cousin, Dasa.”

“He was, y/n's uncle's son.” Geralt added in. “His father Orsa and his wife, were the ones that attacked Dragary, out of spite and vengeance.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “It was because of him, that she found out about her true nature, and unlocked all of it.” He told her. “With the help of Ethos, Emela and Aero.”

“And you, Witcher.” Ethos's voice called from the door.

“I suppose, old man.” Geralt added, narrowing his eyes, amused.

“Where is that darling brat?” He asked, pulling out the chair at the other end of the table.

Yennefer gave Geralt a look that made him, Ethos and Emela laugh out loud. “What?”

“It's just how I show my _love_ for the girl.” Ethos explained, shaking his head at her.

“He doesn't actually mean it.” Emela added, patting Yennefer's arm. “He loves her like a grandchild.”

“She's old enough to be my daughter!” Ethos protested, whooping with laughter.

“Either way!” Emela rolled her eyes, getting up and serving him, his dinner.

“So, where is she, Geralt?” Ethos asked, frowning at the Witcher.

“I've been trying to get that out of him, for a while.” Emela said, sitting down with her own food.

“There's an issue.” Geralt sighed, feeling that heavy weight on his shoulders again.

“Is she all right?” Emela asked, leaning forward, concern on her wrinkled face.

“I don't-” Geralt sighed again. “I don't know.”

“I asked them to help me figure out what was happening in the city of Ellander.” Yennefer picked up where Geralt left off. “While, doing so, Geralt was attacked and injured.”

“I was attacked by a Bruxa, that poisoned her claws.” Geralt spoke up. “It nearly paralyzed and killed me. Y/n struggled to heal me, and ended up using Dragarian magic to heal me. Afterwards, she and I went after the Bruxa and her Werewolf lover. I fought the Werewolf and y/n dealt with the Bruxa, she managed to wound y/n, several times. We thought at first, it was just the poison that was harming her.” He gulped. “It most likely was. But, she tried healing herself again, the same as she healed me.”

“Then, where is she?” Ethos demanded, his food forgotten.

“The poison stopped her _human_ heart.” Geralt whispered.

“Her what heart?” Ethos snapped, his eye twitching.

“She has two hearts.” Geralt repeated, getting up and grabbing the Dragarian book out of your bag that he'd brought with him, slipping open to the page. “For her grandfather Orzac Dilos, to make it possible for dragons to become human, he had to give them _two_ hearts. The heart of a Dragon, is too powerful for the human body, it'll tear them apart. So, he gave them a human heart, to compensate.”

“What's that have to do with y/n?” Emela whimpered, her hand pressed to her own heart.

“The poison _stopped_ her human heart.” Geralt whispered, blinking a few times as his tear ducts burned. “So, with her human heart stopped--”

“Her _Dragon_ heart is the only thing keeping her alive, _period_.” Ethos mumbled, his mouth dropping open and eyes growing huge. “and it's killing her human body.”

“Yes.” Geralt snapped, relieved they were getting it. “So, she shifted into her Dragon form, the only form that can take the power of that heart.”

“Where is she now?” Ethos urged Geralt, jumping up out of his chair.

“She should be flying here from Ellander.” Geralt told him, stepping back. “When she gets here, we're going to find her grandfather.”

“That's _if_ she gets here.” Yennefer huffed.

Geralt snapped around and grabbed Yennefer's upper arm. “She _will_ get here.” He growled, but his gold eyes glowed with fierce desperation and fear.

Yennefer blinked at him, surprised, licking her lips. “I'm _sorry_ , Geralt.” She whispered, gulping hard.

“Do you know, _where_ we can find him?” Geralt asked, looking back at Ethos, and letting Yennefer's arm go.

“The only place I can think of is, the Thundering Ravine.” Ethos said, moving away from Geralt and going into his study, rummaging through drawers and through bookshelves, before coming back with a very old map, that crackled as he unrolled it. “Here.” He tapped an arthritic finger to a spot, high in the Dragon Mountains. “It's said, that that is the cradle of Dragon life. It's the farthest _anyone_ has _ever_ been into the mountains, they've seen countless Dragons appear and vanish into mountain and the mists in this area.” He said it, like he was telling some amazing legend around the campfire. “Kasper Fendove is, or rather _was_ , a master explorer, that reached the highest peak in the mountain range. There was a plateau, in which there was a cave entrance, that lead into a hidden fjord, he called it, the Obsidian Fjord, for its black mountains and a large body of water, nestled in this hidden space in the mountains. He believed that was were the great Dragons lived and were born.”

“How far is it, from here?” Geralt asked, studying the map.

“On horse, it takes nearly a week.” Ethos sighed, heavily. “I haven't the faintest notion how long it would take by foot.”

“How about Dragon flight?” You asked, shoving open the door and lifting an eyebrow at them.

Everyone's mouth dropped open seeing you, you were splattered in mud and stark naked.

“Are you going to stand there and stare, or are you going to answer me?” You sassed Ethos, pressing your lips together.

“Good lord, child!” Emela squealed, rushing to yank her throw blanket off her chair and tossed it around your shoulders. “Look at you.” She whispered, seeing what your Dragon heart was doing to you, the red and gold glow and veins spreading from the center of your chest, it was worse than the last time Geralt and Yennefer had seen you.

“Y/n.” Geralt gasped, moving to your instantly. “It's worse.” He said, ghosting his fingers over it.

“It must be because of her use of her Dragon form, shifting in and out of form is taxing her.” Ethos said, coming closer to look for himself. “You are drenched in sweat.” He said, tracing his finger down the side of your dripping face.

“Dragons, are _very_ warm blooded creatures.” You growled in a huff, feeling even hotter under the blanket. “I'm melting.” You mewled, using the blanket to wipe your face.

“Let's get you upstairs.” Emela said, ushering you upstairs and into the guest room, Geralt was on your heels. “I'll leave you two.” She whispered, watching Geralt loom over you protectively and like a mother hen.

“Here.” He whispered, pulling the blanket off you, then slipping his own shirt over you. “It'll keep you covered, but cooled.” He said, brushing your damp hair off your flushed face.

“Thank you.” You sighed, resting against him.

Geralt cupped the back of your head, pressing his lips your hair. “Ethos thinks, he knows where to find your Grandfather.” He whispered to you, stroking your back with his other hand. “There's a place in the Dragon Mountains, the Thundering Ravine, and from there, a place called, the Obsidian Fjord.” He explained to you, feeling the absurd heat of your body against his bare chest, making him break out in sweat himself.

“We'll go in the morning.” You whimpered against his chest.

Geralt cupped your face in his hands and made you look at him, he could see the veins starting to creep over you cheeks. “I think, we should go now.” He told you, very concerned. “The light's come up, it'll be full morning soon.” He said, tracing the lines. “I'm _afraid_ , if we wait any longer.”

“You heard him, it'll take a week on foot.” You sighed, blinking up at him. “Maybe three or four days on horse back.”

“You suggested flight.” Geralt mentioned, lifting his brows at you.

“I know, you won't let me go, unless you're with me.” You said, resting your hands on his hips. “ _I'm_ afraid, that something might happen to me, if I have you on my back, I'll hurt you.” You whimpered, tears mixing with the droplets of perspiration on your cheeks. “What if I drop you, or if I can't fly any more and fall, landing on you or something.” You fret.

“Hush.” Geralt soothed you, brushing your dirty hair away from your face and hugged you hard against him, despite the burning pain it gave you both. “You'll never hurt me. You'll be fine. We'll get you to your grandfather and everything will be all right again.” He promised you, rocking side to side. “I'll take you home after, and we won't leave for a year.”

“You can't stop Witchering for a year, Geralt.” You told him, incredulous.

“I can, and I will.” He told you, holding you at arm's length. “I'd do anything, to ensure your safety and well being, y/n.”

“Can I drink something first?” You asked, looking up at him like a child, you were so tried and drained. “All this sweating has made me so parched.”

“Of course.” Geralt nodded, directing you to the bed. “I'll go get you a pitcher of fresh, _cold_ water.”

“Oh, that sounds super marvelous.” You told him, laying back.

Geralt went down and fetched it for you, you didn't even bother using the glass he brought you; just gulping it down straight from the pitcher, and even poured a bit over your head. He stood by and watched you, smirking softly as you drenched yourself. Taking a deep breath, you got up and looked at Geralt, you were running on the very last bit of energy, and life, you had left.

“All right, Geralt.” You sighed, and opened the room door. “It better be this Obsidian Fjord, because I don't have another shift in me.” You told him, trekking down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Emela scolded you, seeing you in nothing, but Geralt's shirt, which was over-sized on you, just barely covering everything.

“To Obsidian Fjord.” You answered. “It's now, or never.”

“So, We're going _now_.” Geralt added. “Do you mind, taking care of our things?” He asked, motioning to your bags.

“Of course.” Emela nodded. “As long as you promise to come back for them.”

You smiled, resting your hand on her shoulder. “You know, we will.”

“I do hope, it is Obsidian Fjord.” Ethos said, frowning at you and Geralt.

“What do you want me to do?” Yennefer asked.

“I don't know, what more you can do, Yen.” Geralt told her, honestly.

“You've done a lot for us already.” You told her, smiling at her, appreciative. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She nodded, frowning. “I'll just head back to Aretuza.”

Nodding, Ethos showed you the point on the map and then you all parted. You and Geralt going out to a clearing where you could shift without notice. You looked at Geralt, in your Dragon form, your face, even as a Dragon, looked exhausted. Kneeling low to the ground and sticking out a leg, Geralt very carefully climbed up onto your back, sitting in a hollow dent, just at the base of your neck, between two of your spike scales along your spine, using the spike in front of him to hold on as you pushed off the ground, working your vast wings to gain altitude over the mountain peaks and turned towards were the Dragon oasis was supposed to be.

You suddenly dropped elevation a few times, making Geralt's stomach lurch each time, but you regained it quickly, shaking the fuzzy fog out of your mind. “ _I think, I see it, Geralt_.” You said, seeing a plateau in the distance, where you could land and what looked like the opening of a cave.

“ _Let's find out_.” Geralt thought back, finding that was the easiest way to communicate with you.

“ _Hold on_.” You told him, stretching your body, drawing your wings in close to your sides and making a swooping dive for it; Geralt's thighs squeezing the scales of your neck hard.

You skid to a halt on the plateau, talons screeching against the rock, cutting fresh gouges into the stone. “ _It looks like something with claws has been landing here_.” You said, lowering yourself again, to let Geralt off your back.

“It does.” He answered out loud, seeing the claw marks. “There's the entrance that Ethos talked about.” He said, motioning to the opening in the rock face.

“ _I'm not going to shift out of form, just in case_.” You told him, moving towards the opening.

“Good idea.” Geralt agreed, following beside you.

You stretched your head inside the opening, you could hear the flow of water and animal life deep inside with your heightened senses and continued inside, walking through the darkness for a few moments before coming out on the other side. “ _Holy shit, Geralt_.”

The place was a literal oasis. The black obsidian rocks that doted the hidden Fjord, seemed a bit more like a basin. There was a large body of water in the middle of it, forested and alive with animals you would find in any forest, but, at this altitude and range, it was so strange and out of place, yet still somehow made sense. You felt an incredibly strange sense of peace and belonging here, so much so, you couldn't help the thundering and explosive roar the ripped out of your throat, forcing Geralt to shove his fingers into his ears and huddle away from you.

“ _Was that necessary?_ ” He asked, when you finished.

“ _Yes_.” You nodded, grinning

A moment later, your roar was answered by not just one, but _dozens_ of Dragons.

“ _I'm **home** , Geralt_.” You whimpered, feeling their roars deep in your soul.


	15. The Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make it to the Obsidian Fjord in the Dragon Mountains, looking for your Grandfather and a solution to your dire situation, before its too late. You meet more than just your Grandfather, and when you are no longer able to make decisions for yourself, it’s up to Geralt to make the right one. Not for just you and your life, but his as well.

A great Purple Dragon rose from the treeline, at the south end of the lake, and you felt an awe and kinship with it as it hovered above the treetops, like it was waiting for you to do something; but you had no idea what. After several moments the Dragon came to you, landing on the edge of the shelf before you and regarded you for several long minutes.

“ _Hello, Dov Kiir. I am Zoe, wife of Orzac_.” The Dragon spoke to you. “ _You're grandmother_.”

You felt a giddiness bubble up inside of you. “ _I am so pleased to meet you, **finally**_.” You replied, moving closer to her.

“ _And I you, Mal Gein_.” She whispered back, touching noses with you and closing her eyes. She opened her eyes again, and looked at Geralt. “ _Who is this Joor, Kiir?_ ”

“ _This is Geralt of Rivia, he's a Witcher_.” You told her, turning your neck to look at him. “ _He is my lover, my_... _Sil Fahdon_.” You tried to explain to her, the best you could.

“ _A Jul?_ ” Zoe replied, looking back to you. “ _A man?_ ”

“ _A Witcher_.” You corrected her. “ _A good mortal. I love him_.”

Geralt looked between the two of you mighty Dragons, totally out of the conversation, but trusted, whatever was going on, you would keep him safe.

“ _Then, why have you come home, Kiir?_ ” She asked, her attention back on you.

“ _I have a problem, grandmother_.” You told her, remembering how tired and on the sharp edge of death you are.

“T _ell me, child_.” Zoe replied, concerned.

You groaned, letting out a hard breath as your scales shivered and you returned to human form, looking so small beside Zoe, and looked up at her, your knees wobbly. Your pale skin glowed with the red and gold spots and veins, now in the corner of your eyes. Zoe huffed at you through her nose, ruffling a cool breeze over your body, stirring your hair, and relieving some of the heat in your body, like a forge. Zoe's large body walked around you, gently touching parts of your lava-like skin.

“ _Oh, Child_.” She sighed, facing you again, her large mint-green eyes regarding you, sadly. “ _You're heart-_ ” She whispered, touching the center of your chest, where it was the hottest. “ _You are losing your human life—soon, your Dragon life, will soon take you over_.”

“ _How do I stop it?_ ” You asked, tears welling up in your eyes, but they quickly dried up, with the heat of your skin.

“ _We must see your Grandfather_.” She said, looking troubled.

“ _Of course_.” You nodded, feeling hopeless.

“ _This is a trail, there-_ ” She pointed her tail at a worn path. “ _that you and the_... _ **Witcher**_... _may take. Go as far as it will take you, and you will find your Grandfather and I_.”

“ _Thank you_.” You told her, nodding your head to her.

“ _Welcome home, y/n Dilos, daughter of Ronar and Izzi_.” She bid you, taking flight and returning back to where she'd emerged.

“She said, we take this trail, and it'll lead us to my grandfather.” You told Geralt, turning towards it; thankfully it was down hill.

“Who is _she_?” Geralt asked, wrapping his arm around your waist in case you needed support, and followed you down the trail.

“My grandmother, Zoe.” You answered, leaning your shoulder against his side.

– –

Geralt had to carry you the last two miles of the trail, before you came to a house butted up against a huge slab of obsidian. There was a beautiful older woman, with mint-green eyes, standing in the open doorway.

“Bring her in, Joor.” She said, moving out of Geralt's way and motioning inside.

Nodding, Geralt did so and followed her instructions to take you into an upstairs room and laid you down on the bed. “Are you her Grandmother?” Geralt asked, as she bent over you.

“Yes.” Zoe replied, fussing over you.

“You can transform into a human as well?” You asked, looking up at her.

“Of course, Kiir.” She replied, brushing her fingers through your hair, with such affection. “It was the only way your grandfather and I could visit your parents.” She explained to you. “Orzac banished your father from the Fjord, but he never stopped love his children.” She told you, smiling softly at you. “We visited them often, we tried to be with your uncle Orsa, but-” Zoe frowned, shaking her head. “He is still angry.”

“He's still alive?” Geralt frowned, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yes, he and his wife live in, what we call, the East Gate Cliffs.” Zoe explained to him, placing her hand on your forehead and closing her eyes. “ _Krah_.” She whispered, and her hand became frigid against your skin, cooling your face. “They went there, when they were sent away, and will have nothing to do with us, that isn't hostile.”

“Can you save her?” Geralt whispered, watching you.

“It will be hard.” Zoe answered, moving her cold hand to your chest. “She is so close to death..” She sighed.

“What do you mean?” Geralt demanded.

“Her Dovah Zii, is burning her human body from the inside out, the soul of a Dragon, is incredibly strong. But, hers is even more so, being y/n is a Ved Dovah-”

“A what?” He frowned, shaking his head at all the use of Dragarian.

“A Black Dragon.” She elaborated, glancing at him. “They are the strongest, other than Yuvon—Gold Dragons, like her grandfather. Their spirits are great, it's a surprise y/n was even born, especially, as she was.”

“Why?” You panted, getting delirious.

“Long ago,” Zoe said, sitting on your bed side, her cold hands moving over your body. “There were two gods, Aher and Oara, they loved each other with a fiery passion, that all were jealous and envious of. Before the Conjunction of the Spheres, there was a great battle, between the gods and goddesses about who would rule once the Conjunction happened. But, Aher and Oara, didn't want power, they just wanted to be one, to love each other, for the millennia. When the battle happened, Aher was trapped by an rival god, and was about to be killed, when Oara came from nowhere and stood between them, her skin turned to scale, protecting him from harm. But, it was for not, the god managed to wound her, and in his rage, its said that Aher breathed fire on the god, burning him to blackened bones.”

You surfaced in and out of consciousness, buoyed by her voice and cold of her hands.

“Crushed, as he held Oara as she died, they poured their magic and love together, creating the first two dragon eggs, that laid dormant until the Conjunction, when they hatched. The first, a white egg, for Oara had the most beautiful white hair, emerged first. Soon afterwards, the other egg hatched, a gold egg, for Aher had eyes of pure, molten gold. The powerful embodiment of the god and goddess.” She stroked your hair, watching with worry as your eyes rolled back. “But, even in the body of mighty Dragons, their love and power was too much for them to contain, so they had a child, Dilos; the first Black Dragon, who was strong enough to contain everything his parents could not. He went on to marry and have his own child, Orzac, and so the line of Dragons began. You, y/n, are a reincarnation of Dilos. Your great-grandfather.”

“What?” Geralt snapped, standing at the foot of the bed.

Zoe carefully turned your head and showed him your Dragon Mark, and traced it. “The lower case d.” She said, softly. “Dragons can be reincarnated, it's incredibly rare though. This is how we know she is.” She explained. “That and only Black Dragons are reincarnated, its extremely rare for any other color to be so.”

“Where is Orzac?” Geralt asked, watching you move fitfully.

“He had business to take care of.” Zoe answered, shushing you. “Life of a king.” She laughed, softly. “I am going to put her to sleep, it will help settle her and, hopefully, slow the damage, until Orzac arrives.” She said, looking back at Geralt, sensing his worry. “ _Praan Ahrk Hahnu, Dii Fron_.” You took a deep breath, your eyes opening for a moment, before you let the breath out and relaxed, your eyes falling shut and body laying still. “I am sure, since she's made it this far, that you'll care for her, while I tend to other things.” Zoe said, rising. “There's nothing more I can do for her, now.”

“I'm not leaving her side.” Geralt told her, staunchly.

Zoe patted his arm. “I am sure of it, Witcher.”

Geralt sat down beside you after Zoe left, brushing his fingers through your hair and over your cheek. Your body was relaxed, but your face was still slightly pinched with pain and restlessness, the sheets and pillow beneath you growing damp. “You'll get better again, me minne. I'll do anything to have you better again.” He told you, brow creased as he watched you with worry, leaning in to kiss your chapped lips.

– –

“Witcher.” Orzac greeted him as he returned, stepping into the room.

“Orzac.” Geralt greeted him back, standing up.

“I am sorry, we've met like this again.” The Dragon commented, folding his arms and regarding you in bed.

“Tell me, there's something you can do for her.” Geralt, all but, begged him.

Orzac moved closer to you, touching his first two fingers to your forehead and closing his eyes, sliding his fingers down the bridge of your nose, over your lips and chin, to your throat, and stopping in the center of your chest, a hum rumbling in his chest. He turned to Geralt, suddenly. “Do you love her, Witcher?” He asked, studying him.

“With all that I am.” He answered him, narrowing his eyes.

“Would you die for her?”

“A million deaths.” Geralt growled.

“Would you bind yourself to her?” Orzac asked, tilting his head.

“Like, marry her?” Geralt frowned, confused.

“Of the sort.” Orzac replied, glancing at you.

“Yes.” He whispered, softly.

“Then, this choice, of her life-” Orzac said, looking back at Geralt. “is in _your_ hands. As her soulmate, you must choose how to save her.”

“What are my choices?” Geralt asked, without hesitation.

“There are four.” Orzac explained, seating himself in a chair beside your bed. “One, you allow her to die. Two, we remove her Dragon heart and start her human one. Three, I remove her Human heart and she will turn into her Dragon form, permanently.”

“Why can't you just restart her human heart again?” Geralt asked, feeling himself getting agitated.

“That is the fourth choice,” He answered with a sigh. “But, it's not as easy as you may think. It will change her.”

“Change her, how?” The Witcher got a sick feeling in his stomach.

“There is a very old ritual.” The Dragon began to explain to him. “The Passage of the Sacred. It will change her, it may enhance certain powers, enhancing her Dragon abilities, magic, senses, dragon form; which is already quite strong. It may enhance her human and Mage abilities. It may give her new ones. But,” He settled his eyes on Geralt. “It may take her powers, some or all of them. She may not return from it, either. Some get lost on their journey through the passage.”

“Why do I decide this?”

“She isn't capable of making them herself, you can see as much.” He waved his hand over you. “So, the choice resides with her one true mate, _You_ , Geralt of Rivia.” He smiled between you and Geralt. “Your love for each other is the embodiment of Aher and Oara.”

“I'm not a Dragon, I'm a Witcher.” Geralt huffed.

Orzac laughed. “They didn't start out as Dragons, Witcher. They didn't even start out as Gods. They ascended, because of their love for one another.” He grinned. “I will give you time to decide.”

Geralt grabbed Orzac by the arm before he could leave the room. “I want y/n back.” He told the other male. “I will do anything, so, I want you to do the Passage.”

He blinked at Geralt, and a slow smile crossed his face. “Very well then. I'll prepare the ritual, when it's ready, I'll retrieve you both.”

“Thank you.”

– –

Geralt picked you up, not allowing anyone else too, and carried you down a path that led into a cave system near the lake. He noticed several humans by shimmering pools and lifted his brow at Orzac.

“Dragon Menders.” Zoe explained. “Those we've entrusted our powers and secrets with.”

Nodding, Geralt carefully laid you down on a stone slab indicated by one of the Menders, and stepped away from you, but made sure he was near enough to step in, if he didn't like how they were treating you. A mender retrieved a bucket and dipped it into one of the pools, then slowly poured it over your body, steam rose as the heat of your body evaporated the water. They poured several buckets of water over you, cooling your body considerably. Another Mender entered, covered in strange tattoos and markings, and carrying a large stack of what looked like white gauze. She dipped the gauze into the waters, then slowly started wrapping it around your feet, working up your body.

“What is she doing?” Geralt whispered to Zoe.

“Wrapping her in the fabric of our people.” The Mender replied, her focus still solely on you. “My people have been serving, worshiping and mending Dragons of millennia, we have utilized the Dragons' powers and magic, mixed with ours to aid them, in all things.”

“Lena is our best Mender.” Zoe explained, smiling at her. “Y/n's mother was a Dragon Mender.”

“I thought she was a Dragon?” Geralt frowned.

“She was.” Lena replied, dipping more fabric in the waters and started wrapping your arms. “For her abilities as a Healer, Orzac, gifted her the form of a Dragon. All White Dragons were once a Dragon Mender, that has transcended through the Passage of the Scared, returned, and proven themselves worthy of the heart and soul of a Dragon.”

“Then, our son, Ronar, fell in love with her.” Zoe chimed in, watching. “and they married.”

Lena paused, holding your unwrapped arm and turning towards Orzac. Orzac nodded, stepping forward, pulling a titanium-oxide blade from his belt, taking your hand in his and slicing into your palm, making Geralt jerk with anger. But, Zoe rested her hand on his thick arm and smiled at him, then nudged him forward. Lena held your bloody hand as Orzac grabbed Geralt's and did the same to his palm, making him growl and hiss. The Dragon King pressed your and Geralt's bloody hands together and held them tight between his.

“Do you still mean, that you will bind yourself to her, Witcher?” Orzac asked him, panting. “To marry her, in the will of Dragons.”

“Yes.” Geralt snapped.

“As the might of Dragons,” Orzac said in a strong and powerful tone, his voice carrying through the stone rooms. “King and God of our people, I give my son's daughter to this mortal, to Geralt of Rivia, Witcher, to bind them as one; in love, life, blood and power.”

Geralt felt a burning tingle race up his arm, a white hot heat blooming between your and his palms, and felt strangeness surge through his body and mind, threading his bloody fingers between yours, and squeezing, his amber-gold eyes glowing.

“Gron Ahrk Kos Gein. Fah Nu, Ahrk Enook Bok.” Orzac growled and a gold halo glowed around your linked hands, his eyes changing to their Dragon form. “You are one of us now, Witcher.” He told Geralt, watching as Geralt's pupils changed from pinpoint circles, to narrow slits. “You are tied to each other, bound by all things, as husband and wife, and so much more.”

Geralt shook his head, seeing the change in his vision, even with his eyes being enhanced by the Witcher trials. Orzac let your hands go and Geralt looked at his palm, it was healed, the only trace was a thin and neat scar; you hand was the same. Lena wrapped your arm, then wrapped the rest of your torso, securing your arms to your chest as she did, then carefully wrapped your neck and head. With the help of another Dragon Mender, they picked up your body, carrying you to one of the pools, and gently lowered you in, allowing your body to sink to the bottom, and out of view. Lena took your Orzac necklace and turned to Geralt, motioning him to bend to her short level, and slipped the necklace over his head, settling it around his neck and against his chest, over his heart.

“This necklace has become attuned to y/n's powers.” She told him, touching her fingertips to the mystic crystal eyes in the pendant. “While, she is on her Passage, she will need a guide, a reason to return to us, and her life here. She will be drawn back by her power, but, if she doesn't have a _true_ reason to return, then not even her power will bring her back.” Lena explained to him, meeting his eyes, that had returned to normal. “You, Geralt, as her Soulmate, and now her husband, must be that reason. _You_ must call her back to life.”

“And, if I can't?” Geralt asked, feeling his heart pound.

“Then, she will not return, she will remain in the waters here, for all time. _Lost_.” Lena told him, sadly, glancing at the pool they submerged you in. “And the only Black Dragon of the Continent, since Dilos, will be gone.”

“How do I recall her, then?” He asked, his eyes trained on the pool and his throat tight.

“Stay here.” Lena said to him, resting her tattooed hand on his arm. “Think of her, talk to her, of your love for her. The life you want with her. What you love about her, and that you want her back.”

“How long will it take her to come back to me?” Geralt asked, he hadn't stopped thinking about those things, since he met you.

“All depends on her.” She answered him, sighing. “Depends on how much damage was caused to her, how much strength she had, and has, left. What life of her is left, and how much she wants to come back.”

“I won't leave until she comes back.” Geralt said, with deep conviction. “and if she never comes back, I still won't leave.” He added, pressing his lips together and fighting hard against showing the emotions so many people had accused him of not having, as a Witcher.

“You are the son of Dragons and Dilos now, Witcher.” Orzac told him, resting his hand on Geralt's shoulder. “Family. My grandchild's Soulmate, husband and love. You will always be welcomed here, for as long as you want, whenever you want.” He said, with his own honest conviction.

“I will ensure, that one of the Menders tends to your needs, while you are here, Witcher.” Lena told him, feeling for him. “However long that is.”


	16. The Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You start your way on the Passage of the Scared, and Geralt keeps vigil as you do, trying his best to convince you to come back to him. But, while that is going on, someone comes to claim vengeance.

You jerked your head to the side, trying to clear the heavy fog out of your mind as you stumbled out of bed, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Geralt?” You called, grabbing the door handle and yanking open the door, then paused, not recognizing the strange hallway you wandered into. You turned and looked at the bedroom you had awoken in, it was even stranger than the hallway; _luxurious_.

“Oh, good morn, my lady!” A female voice called behind you.

You turned and faced her, frowning, as she curtseyed to you. “What the fuck.” You snapped. “Who are you?” You growled at her, worked up.

“I'm Ola, ma'am.” She frowned back at you. “Your Lady's Maid. Are you feeling well? Should I get your mother?” She asked, looking incredibly concerned.

“Take me to her.” You told her, moving towards her. “Now.”

“Right away, miss.” Ola bowed and led the way.

“Mum?” You called, going into the room as Ola opened the door.

“Y/n, love, what's the problem?”

“She seems very out of sorts, my lady.” Ola said, looking at you, quite concerned.

Your mouth dropped open and your eyes grew wide as your mother, your biological mother, turned around from her mirror to face you. Heavy and blinding tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at her, her rose pink eyes settling on you, her Nordic white hair flowing over her shoulders, in soft waves.

“Mama?” You whimpered, tears spilling over and burning your eyes.

“What's going on, y/n?” She frowned, her own concern appearing. “Come here, dovey.” She opened her arms to you, and you dropped to your knees at her feet, pressing your face to her chest as she cradled you against her body, rocking and shushing you, while you clung onto her and sobbed. “My sweet girl.” She whispered into your ear, discretely waving Ola away, petting and stroking your hair.

“What's come over you? Tell Mama.” 

Izzi's words only made you cry harder; and enhanced her concern. You had wanted to hear those words from her, ever since finding out that she was your biological mother, not Sanne. Though, Sanne had raised you with incredible affection and tender love, hearing those words from your real mother, unlocked some sorrowful child, deep, inside of you, that you had never known was there. You supposed it was the part of you, that knew the truth of your parentage. She softly hummed some lullaby to you, that soothed you in an instant; your breathing evened out, your heart stopped pounding, like it was going to burst, and you felt so calm and safe.

“There now, dovey.” Izzi smiled, cupping your wet face in her hands, wiping gently at your eyes with her thumbs, and smiled at you, tenderly. “Now, tell me, what's come over you?” She asked, her smooth brow creasing.

“What's this?” A male voice called, as the door to the bedroom opened, and came near you both, your heart started to pound again, recognizing your father. “What's wrong, my dove?” Ronar asked, squatting beside you and your mother, kissing your forehead, lovingly.

“I'm unsure, Ronar.” Izzi replied, caressing your cheeks with her thumbs. “Ola brought her to me, saying she wasn't well, and she just broke down.” She explained to her husband.

“Are you under the weather, my darling?” Ronar asked you, worried, and rubbing your back.

Your mouth hung open and kept looking back and forth between them, blinking at more tears. You didn't know what to do, you wanted to hold them and sob, you wanted to ask them if this was real. But, you suddenly remembered you were supposed to be ill, and looked down at your chest, pressing your hand to the silk night clothes you were wearing.

“My heart..” You mumbled, not seeing the lines there any more, or feeling the intense heat.

“Your heart is fine and healthy, my dovey.” Izzi said, pulling your hand away and looking, she could hear the anxious and panicked beat of your heart, but otherwise, you were perfectly healthy.

“You must have just been having a nightmare, little one.” Ronar smiled at you, kissing your forehead again. “You're all right and perfectly safe here, with your mother and I.” He promised you, resting his hand on the back of your head.

“Yeah.” You nodded, frowning and blinking. “I have been very tired lately.” You agreed, licking your lips; you had been.

Your father rubbed your arm, then kissed your and your mother's cheeks. “Then, why don't you rest today, dove.” He suggested, getting up and going into a connecting room. “There's nothing to worry about, the kingdom is running flawlessly, we have a massive shipment of Dragirium to Nilfgaard, and it's an amazing spring day!” He said, joyful, as he came back.

“I'll have Ola make you some Skullcap tea, and bring it to your room.” Izzi told you, brushing your hair behind your ears. “And, I will check on you before lunch, okay?” She smiled at you, sweetly.

“Yes, that sounds fabulous, Mama.” You agreed, feeling a lot better.

You stood up and your mother walked back to your room with you, still humming that song. When you made it to your room, she got you back into bed and covered you up, then rang for Ola, instructing her to make you the tea and some toast. She smiled at you, kissing the top of your head and left, so she could finish dressing for the day.

– –

Geralt sat by the pool you were in, keeping vigil, and doing what Lena told him, thinking about you, as he stroked the pendant. He thought about the first time he saw you, fighting that Bruxa, it made him smile. The strength and courage something like that took.

– Flash Back –

Geralt and Jaskier had been traveling from Kagen, back to Rinde. As typical, Jaskier was rambling on about songs he was writing, pestering him for details about the monster he had killed in Kagen and lamenting about how Lara, the Countess de Stael, had left him, for the countless time. He felt the vibration of his Wolf medallion, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch it as he halted; Jaskier still talking, not noticing Geralt's shift in body language. He slowly moved his head side to side, trying to pick up any identifying noises to show him the way to the creature. He heard the screech of the Bruxa not far off to the left of him, grabbed his sword and strode off that way. Stopping just short of the edge of the clearing, he saw you standing in, facing the clearly pissed off Bruxa, and moved to step in as it sliced into your shoulder, but stopped again. You scrambled the last few feet to your weapon, wrapped your bloody hand around the black leather hilt and rolled onto your back, swung the sword down, parallel to your body, as the Bruxa reached you, and sliced through its wing, with a nasty crunch. Geralt blinked, seeing the Bruxa fall heavily to the ground, shifting back to human form. You shook your head and got up, pressing a hand to your wound, Geralt was incredibly impressed, and was about to comment on it, when he saw the Vampire get up, and with practice experience, threw his sword at it, piercing through its body, and startling you.

“ _I had that, Witcher_.”

It was that moment, Geralt fell in love with you.

– –

“Would you like to rest, Witcher?” The Mender that Lena had tasked to watch over him, Asa, asked as she appeared beside him.

“I don't want to be far from her.” Geralt answered, not glancing up at the Mender. “In case, she comes back. I don't want her to be alone, _when_ she does.”

“There is a bed in the small room, there.” Asa answered, motioning to a room across from the pool. “You should be more than able to hear her, if— _when_ , she surfaces.” She explained, giving Geralt a soft expression.

Geralt glanced at the room, seeing the soft mattress in the simple and sturdy wood bed frame. “Thank you.” He replied, turning back to the pool. “I'll rest there, if I get tired.”

Asa nodded and left quietly, coming back an hour later and set a plate of food and drink on the edge of the bench he was on, gave him a small smile, before leaving him again, to his solitary watch. Geralt didn't bother with the food, but sipped the honey mead, and stared, sightless, at the pool, imagining your wrapped body resting at the bottom. A logical part of Geralt's mind struggled with diving into the pool and bring you back up, you had still been alive and breathing, when you went into the pool, it was a shock to him that you would drown before you managed to finish wherever the Passage was taking you. But, Lena and Zoe had assured him you would be fine, that the potion Lena had given you before she completely wrapped you, would negate your need to breath, but keep you alive.

“Where are you?” Geralt asked, his voice softly echoing. “Why haven't you come back yet? You have to come back, I _need_ you, y/n.” he said, into the void of water. “Come back to me.” He whispered, standing up and leaning on his hands at the edge of the pool. “There are still things we need to do together. We still need that rest at your cottage, we talked about. I want to spend my days there, with you; watching you tilling your garden.” He blushed for a moment, he felt silly talking to you, when he wasn't entirely sure you could hear him, and you sure couldn't answer him; but also because of something else he hadn't told or shown you. “I-” He licked his lips. “I bought you something.” He whispered, recalling the gift in his bag, still in Midmaw. “When we stopped in Pont Vanis, to see Aero that last time, I stopped by a shop and bought you some seeds, for your garden.” Geralt dipped his fingertips into the water, feeling the pleasant warmth. “Licorice Root and Ginseng, because I know you said you wanted to get some, to add to your herb garden. But, I also bought you seeds for a new flower; Forget-me-not seeds.” He blushed, turning his head away, like you could see him. “I hoped that, if I had to go away from you, that you'd see them in the garden, and be reminded of me.

Geralt was quiet for a while, trailing his fingertips through the surface of the water, picturing it was your skin he was touching, before getting up with a heavy sigh. “I know, you'd want me to rest. You'd give me quiet the talking too, when you came back, and found out I hadn't been caring for myself.” He said, taking himself to the bed in the little room and laid down. “Good night, y/n.” He whispered, closing his eyes.

“I love you.”

– –

You woke up, refreshed and content, smiling at Ola as she came in, carrying your breakfast and laid it over your lap. “Good morning, Ola.” You greeted her, picking up your utensils.

“Are you feeling better today, miss?” Ola asked, her green eyes regarding you.

“Much better.” You nodded, taking a bite of your food. “I am sorry, if I startled you yesterday. I must have been more tired than I expected.” You told her, as she pulled out the clothing you would be wearing for the day.

“Oh, it's all right, ma'am.” She replied, waving it off. “I'm just glad, you're better today.”

When you finished your breakfast, Ola helped you dress and you joined your parents downstairs, smiling at both of them. “Good morning, Mama.” You greeted her, kissing her cheek. “Papa.” You grinned at him, kissing his cheek.

“So glad to see you doing better today, dovey.” Izzi commented, pink eyes sparkling up at you.

“As I am.” You replied, sitting beside her.

“Excellent.” Ronar grinned at you.

“I'm going to visit one of the noblewomen, today.” Izzi told you, turning towards you. “Her husband has become ill, I'd like you to come with me, y/n.”

“Of course, I'd love too.” You nodded, taking a fine porcelain cup of tea off the silver service a servant held for you. “Thank you.” You smiled at him, sipping it. “What is he ill with?” You asked, turning back to your mother.

“I'm unsure.” She told you, taking a cup for herself. “I was hoping to find out.”

“Well, I look forward to helping, the best I can.” You told her.

An hour later, you and your mother were making your way through the market place and to the home of the noblewoman's and her husband. She let you both in with great ceremony and showed you upstairs to the master bed chamber, where her ailing husband sat propped up in the four poster bed. The room was warm and stuffy, so the first thing your mother did was throw open the drapes and pull open the windows.

“My Queen, I could have the servants do this, at your direction.” The noblewoman protested, watching her move about the room.

“Nonsense.” Izzi waved her silent. “I am not Queen just now, I am his healer.” She told her, pressing her hand to his forehead.

You stood at the foot of the bed and watched her check the nobleman, asking him and his wife questions of his symptoms and other relatable things. She motioned for you to come closer, showing you places he hurt, the bed sores on his legs and the signs of a possible bleeding stomach ulcer. You leaned closer to her, listening to her explain the issues he was having and how they were to be cured. Still listening to your mother speak, you got an odd gut feeling and carefully picked up his left hand, examining her fingernails, they were bluish. His breath was short and a irregular cough, his heart was pounding.

“Does your back or chest hurt?” You asked him, suddenly.

“Yes.” He nodded, lifting a brow at you. “I fell off my horse not long ago.” He told you, tilting his head.

“Did your illness happen or worsen afterwards?”

“Yes, considerably.” He nodded again, growing even more concerned than he was.

“What is it, y/n?” Your mother asked, studying you.

“I think, he has more than a bleeding ulcer.” You told her, getting the nobleman to sit forward and pulled up the back of his shirt, seeing the massive healing bruise on his back. “I think, he has a lung hemorrhage.”

“A what?” The man's wife asked, alarmed.

“A bleeding lung.” Your mother simplified for her. “Are you sure?” She asked you.

“Yes.” You nodded, frowning down at him and trying to remember how you treated such an illness. “I've seen it before.” You added, resting your hands on your hips.

“Seen it where, y/n?” Izzi asked, frowning at you.

You blinked, confused by her words, and looked at her, blinking again. “I-”

“Y/n.” A deep voice spoke your name, softly, making you look up.

“Geralt.” You frowned, seeing him standing in the doorway of the bedchamber. “What are you doing here?” You asked him.

“Y/n, who are you speaking too?” Your mother asked, looking over at the door and seeing no one.

“It's time to come back, me minne.” He told you, looking at you with a soft and tired expression.

“Back where?” You asked him, shaking your head, not understanding.

“Back home,” He answered, he looked so pained. “with me.” He held his hand out to you. “Come back to me, please? You have to come back.” He begged you, swallowing hard.

“But, my parents, Geralt.” You sniffled, tears welling up. “My parents are here.” You told him, you could feel a hum radiating off of him, from your necklace around his neck. “I don't want to leave them, not when I finally have them.”

“They're not real, y/n.” Geralt cried, licking his lips and taking a step closer to you. “We're the only ones that are real here. They're dead, and have been for a _very_ long time, love. Come back with me, before its too late!”

“Y/n!” Your mother snapped, grabbing you by the face and making you look at her, but it wasn't Izzi any longer, it was Sanne. “Go back with him, he's right. You _must_ go back with him.” She urged you, shaking you.

“No, no, no!” You sobbed, yanking your body backwards, your heart pounding as you looked between Sanne and Geralt. “NO!” You screamed, pressing your back into the corner. “No!”

“Y/n!” Geralt yelled, trying to get closer to you. “Please!!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, sliding down the wall and tucking your knees to your chest, shaking your head as Geralt and Sanne's yells slowly faded.

“Y/n?” Another male voice called to you, footsteps rushing up to you. “What is it?” He grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you up.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at him as he pressed you against his body. “Eren.” You gasped, mouth falling open. “Oh god, Eren.” You mewled, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing for dear life.

– –

“Y/N!” Geralt screamed, sitting bolt upright in the bed, breathing hard and feeling dizzy.

“Geralt?” Lena called, hearing the strong echo of his yell vibrate through the cavern.

“Sorry.” He sighed, sitting up at the edge of the bed. “I just..dreamed of her. That's all.”

“What did you dream?” She asked, tilting her head at him.

“She was, in a room of some kind, with another man and two women.” He told her, rubbing his face. “One of them was her biological mother, Izzi. I tried to get her to come to me, to take my hand. But, she wouldn't, she moved away, and then I woke up.”

Lena nodded her head. “Your and y/n's bond is strong.” She commented.

“Is it?” He asked, looking up at her. “Then, why didn't she come to me?”

“If you had the chance, to see your parents again, would you want to leave?” She asked him, regarding him curiously.

Geralt blinked, thinking about it. No, he wouldn't. He had wanted to see his mother again, for a very long time. “I suppose not.” He sighed, glancing up at her.

“Don't worry, Witcher.” Lena smiled at him. “She heard you, you stepped onto the path with her. That wouldn't have happened, if your love and bond wasn't strong and true; if she didn't want to come back to you.” She told him, turning and going back to what she was doing.

“Let's hope.” Geralt exhaled, pushing himself up. “Is there a place I can bathe?” He asked Asa, when she brought him breakfast.

“Of course.” She nodded, setting his plate down. “I can show you, follow me.” She said, leading him through a winding hallway that led to a dead end, where a set of four steps disappeared a large tub, made by a natural underground hot spring. “Help yourself.” She said, motioning to the towels and other bathing things on a shelf, carved out of the rock face.

“Thanks.” Geralt said, following her back to eat his breakfast. “Will one of you watch over her?” He asked, when he finished his food.

“I can.” Asa nodded, smiling at him.

Nodding his head, he made his way back to the spring, undressing and easing himself into the warm water, letting it envelope his sore, tired and exhausted body, sitting down in the submerged bench in the middle of it, leaning back and resting his elbows on the edge, his hand mindlessly swirling in the water as he thought.

– –

“What is this all about, Sweetness?” Eren laughed, his blue eyes smiling down at you. “You act as if we haven't seen each other in ages. I've only been gone a week.” He teased you.

You tilted your head back to look up at him, with red rimmed eyes. “It feels like you've been gone for decades, Ren.” You told him, hugging him tight again.

“Oh, I'll take you with me next time.” He told you, kissing the top of your head. “I would have this time, if I had known how much you would miss me.” He whispered into your hair. “My uncle might not have been so unbearable.” He laughed again.

The sound of Eren's laugh in your ears was like music, you had missed it, and had forgotten the sound of it. Ensuring you were all right again, You and Eren went down to have dinner, where he told you all about his trip back to Kovir and the silliness of his family there. He had tried to ask you about your time at home while he was away, but you couldn't remember, so instead of alarming him again; you told him it didn't matter as much as him being home again. You laughed as you and Eren reminisced about the past together, wanting to relive those amazing days with him, but you couldn't shake the feeling of someone else being near you, when you only saw Eren.

– –

Geralt had just finished bathing and had started to get out of the water, when he felt the room around him rumble and shake. Bits of rock from the ceiling, splashing into the water and smashing to the smooth floor. He quickly got out of the water and pulled on his clothes, rushing down the hallway and meeting Lena half way.

“Fuck is going on?” He demanded, feeling another shake.

“Nothing good.” She told him, resting her hand on the wall to balance herself. “There's only ever been one reason the Fjord as shook like this, before.”

“And that is?”

“Orsa.” She said, simply, turning back and going down the hall, going to the surface.

“Don't you worry, Witcher.” Asa assured him as he came to the pool. “I will continue to watch over her, if anything happens, I will tell you.” She smiled at him. “Go up and see.”

Geralt gently touched her arm, and went up to the surface, looking up at the sky and seeing the massive Red Dragon hovering in the sky, above the lake. He found Orzac, Zoe, Lena and a few others at the edge of the lake, staring up at him. “What's going on?” He asked Orzac.

“My surviving son has returned home, it seems.” Orzac sighed and looked up at him, his eyes showing his true age.

“ _Grant me form, you old whelp_.” Orsa growled.

“ _Land, and I will_.” Orzac replied, pointing to a clear area for Orsa to do so.

Orsa turned and dropped to the ground, his huge body shaking the ground. Orzac approached his son, the rest of the group following several steps behind, and rested his hand on Orsa's nose, closing his eyes. “ _Zu'u Bolaav, Orsa, son of Orzac Dilos, Joor Slen_.” He chanted, a gold glow to his hand.

Orsa shuttered, scales rattling like chain mail, he roared again, in agony, as he changed, finally assuming his human form. He stood, naked, and shivering, unaccustomed to how easily human bodies got cold. “Why would you want to be in such a form.” He commented, looking at himself, pinching the soft and goose-bumped skin of his arm. “There's no protection, from anything.”

“Bring him clothes.” Zoe said, to one of the others standing beside her, who ran off to do so.

“Hello, Mother.” Orsa smiled at her, tightly. “Father.”

“What are you doing here, Orsa?” Zoe asked him.

“Can't a son come home to see his dear parents?” He asked, taking the shirt and pants from the servant.

“You were banish from this place, centuries ago.” Orzac told him, crossing his arms. “You are breaking that banishment.”

“What about you!?” Orsa barked, snarling. “I've gotten news that you've allowed Ronar's brat to come here.” He sneered at his parents. “with a mortal!”

Geralt narrowed his eyes at him, fighting the urge to beat the shit out of him; it wasn't his place and he wasn't going to start drama for you and the others. He looked at Zoe and Lena, he could see they weren't at all happy either.

“I've welcomed them here.” Orzac told him, not budging.

“You welcomed them here, and not my son, Dasa.” Orsa growled, balling up his fists.

“Dasa is nothing, but trouble, and you know this.” He told him, narrowing his eyes. “You sent him away from East Gate, because of it.”

“He's my son-”

“And you are mine!” Orzac roared, silencing him. “I allowed y/n here because she proved herself to me, so I lifted it.”

“And the mortal!” Orsa snapped, motioning to Geralt.

“Her soulmate.” Zoe replied, straightening up.

“Her _Husband_.” Geralt added, giving Orsa a hard look.

“They killed my son.” Orsa growled, his voice thick with sorrow and pain.

“He attacked us.” Geralt growled back. “He tried killing us, and he killed countless others.”

“Dasa killed our kind, just like you did, when you attacked the Dragary Kingdom.” Orzac sighed, rubbing his face. “You got your brother and his wife killed, and orphaned their daughter, our grandchild, _your_ niece.”

“And, I've come to avenge my son.” Orsa huffed, his anger spiking again. “Where is she? I want to face Ronar's whelp for killing my son.”

“She's not capable of fighting you, Orsa.” Zoe told him, stepping up beside Orzac.

“What, she too cowardly to fight me, like her father.” He laughed, throwing his head back.

“No, she's come back to the Fjord, because she's dying.” Zoe told him, carefully, feeling Geralt bristling behind her.

“Oh.” Orsa perked up. “Good riddance.” He roared with even more laughter, but suddenly cut it off. “But, I still want my vengeance, for everything you've done to me, kept from me, and take the position, my blood right, as king.” He said with scorn. “and so does my wife, Nira.” He added, as a tremendous boom filled the Fjord, rippling the air, and another Dragon appeared over the mountain peaks.

“What the fuck was that?” Geralt asked, twitching as the noise hurt his ears.

“A Dragon Shout.” Lena replied, grabbing his elbow as the ground shook.

There was a breeze of air and Asa suddenly appeared between Geralt and Lena. “We have a problem.” she panted.

“What is it?” Lena asked, turning towards her.

“Has y/n come back?” Geralt asked, grabbing her arm, eyes wide.

“No, but, it has to do with her.”

“Say it.” Lena snapped, concerned and impatient.

“The Shout shook the cavern,” she said, not knowing which of them to look at. “it caved in the hallway, leading to her pool.”

“Fuck.” Geralt snapped, turning to run back down, but was blocked by Nira landing between. “Fuck!” He barked, baring his teeth at the Dragon, who bared hers back. “Why is she always getting trapped by fucking cave ins.” He huffed, knowing he was no match for fighting Nira.

– –

You and Eren were laughing about the time the two of you had been caught making love in the Temple of Melitele, when the house you both lived in, in Dorian, shook around you. You both stopped, listening, and waiting to see if there was another shake. A moment later, there was another, a stronger one.

“A quake, here.” You frowned at Eren.

“I've kept you too long.” Eren said, suddenly, making you frown harder.

“What are you talking about?” You asked him, another shake rocking you. “Kept me too long? We live here, together, Eren.”

“No, Sweetness.” He sighed, shaking his head and standing up. “You need to go back to him.” He told you.

“Back to who?” You shook your head.

“Your husband, and soulmate.” Eren told you, softly.

“ _You_ are! You are my husband, Eren.” You cried, gripping his arms.

“No, Sweetness. I am not.” He said, stroking your face. “Not, like _he_ is.”

“Who!” You yelled, angry and hurt.

“Y/n.” Geralt's voice called again, recalling you.

“This isn't real.” You sighed, shoulders slumping. “You're dead, Eren, and have been for a _very_ long time.”

“Yes, my Sweet.” He nodded, cupping your face in his hands. “I am an Echo, that resides in your mind. But, Geralt is not, he is the real thing, and he _needs_ you. Now, more than he has ever.” Eren told you, pressing your foreheads together. “Geralt is your _true_ soulmate, your _real_ husband.” He whispered, kissed your lips, softly, and turned you around.

The presence you had felt the whole time, was Geralt, calling back to you, and your power humming in the Orzac pendant. You looked at Geralt, his hand stretched out to you and his face and eyes begging you to reach back, to take his hand and return to him, back to life.

“Go to him, you will be all the stronger, and happier, for it.” Eren whispered into your ear, his hand stroking down the top of your hair to your shoulders, giving you a nudge in Geralt's direction. “I will also love you.” He said, before fading away.

“Geralt.” You mewled. “How could I be so stupid, not to come back to you.”

Geralt chuckled and shook his head at you. “How stupid would I be, not to bring you back.” He replied, smiling at you.

“Geralt?” You frowned, seeing a dark red line of blood run down from his hairline over his forehead. “Why are you bleeding?”

He touched it, and frowned. “I don't know, I just know you need to come back with me, _now_. If you don't, we'll never see each other again.” He said, blinking hard, several times and wavering on his feet.

“Geralt!” You screamed, grabbing his hand and catching him as he fell forward.

Your body jerked and your eyes flew open, shining in bright silver and narrowed pupils, lung screaming from disuse for so long. You struggled out of your wrappings, freeing your arms and legs, planting your feet, you pushed off on the bottom of the pool, shooting yourself to the surface of the water. As you broke through the surface of the water, the color of your hair seemingly melted away from the strands, bleeding the color out into the water and changing into the same Nordic white color your mother's was, the same color all Dragon Mender hair was. You took a deep gasp of air, when the water surface broke, blindly reaching for the edge of the pool and dragging yourself out onto the cold stone floor. You laid there, in a tight ball, shivering and gasping air into your burning lungs. You pulled yourself up by the bench Geralt kept watch over you on, using it to hold yourself up until your legs steadied, and more tremors rocked the room around you.

“So, that's real too.” You panted to yourself.

Standing up, straight, you looked around, seeing the two caved in hallways and rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Why's this always happen to me.” You groaned, seeing the small room in front of you and investigated it, only finding a bed and an off white, one shoulder, wool dress with frayed edges; you took that and slipped it onto your wet body. “Right, to get the fuck out of here.” You said, going back to one of the hallways, hoping it was the right one, and extended your arm. “ _Kren_.” You huffed and a blast of energy pulsed out of your palm, blowing the rubble out of the way. You looked at your hand, startled by the power of it, shrugged, and started to move down the now cleared hallway, when you glanced at your hand again, seeing the scar from the cut Orzac made. “What the fuck have you guys been doing to me?” You snapped and continued forward, intent on finding that out, and why the quakes kept happening.

You had, thankfully, picked the right hallway, having to clear more to get out and in the open. Your jaw dropped, when you did finally make it out, there were Dragons in the sky fighting and breathing fire, half the Fjord was on fire and there were Dragon Shouts being let out left and right, shaking the whole area. You managed to catch some poor and unfortunate soul as they ran by you, trying to find cover.

“Where is my Grandfather and Grandmother?” You asked him. “Where's Geralt?”

“I don't know!” He yelled, bouncing in place, desperate to leave. “Last I saw, they were by the east end of the lake.” He told you, breaking free and running off.

Orienting yourself, you started running towards that end of the lake and suddenly found yourself there in a snap, like you had portalled, but was sure you hadn't.

“Y/n?” A woman with tattoos called your name.

“Do I know you?” You frowned at her.

“I know you, y/n.” Lena replied, smiling at you, which was rather haunting, given she was covered in blood. “I am Lena, the Dragon Mender, that took care of you.”

“You're the one that wrapped me up, like a fucking mummy, and tossed me into a pool of water?” You asked, lifting an unenthused brow at her.

“I am.” She grinned at you, still haunting. “I am glad you returned to us. Geralt will be too.”

“Where is Geralt?” You asked her, frowning at her.

“Safe, follow me.” She said, and vanished in a blur.

“What the-” Your mouth dropped open, and blinked when her blur came back, stopping in front of you. “How did you..”

“You can do it too.” She told you, laughing. “Just think of where you want to go, and run.” She explained, doing it again.

“Okay..” You shook your head, feeling crazy, but did as she said, popping up right beside her.

“Very good.” Lena smiled at you, proud. “Ordinarily,” she said, entering a cave. “I would have been there, when you woke, but as you can see, I was not. I would have helped you out of the pool and explained to you what had happened, and start teaching you about your new abilities, but again, as you can see, I can not, at the moment.” She explained to you. “But, something tells me, I won't have too.” She said, regarding you. “Geralt is through there, with your Grandmother.” She pointed the way down another hallway, a doorway at the end, flickering with torch light.

“Thank you.” You said to her, bowing your head. “For saving me.”

“Oh, I didn't save you.” Lena giggled. “Your husband did.”

You leaned towards her, narrowing your eyes. “Why do people keep calling Geralt, my husband?” You asked her, brow creasing.

Lena giggled again, patting your shoulder. “He will explain it to you. Go.” She said, motioning up the hall with her head.

Sighing, you walked down the hallway, looking at the Obsidian stone it was carved out of, you made it to the doorway of the room, hearing your Grandmother and Geralt speaking quietly inside, she was trying to reassure him of your safety, that you would be safe in the pools until after Orsa and Nira were dealt with. Not wanting Geralt's worry and anxiety to go on, you stepped into the room, gaining their attention.

“Y/n.” Geralt gasped, jumping up.

“ _Husband_.” You replied, smirking at him.


	17. Black and Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get caught up on everything that’s happened and deal with your uncle, Orsa.

“I'll leave you two to talk in private.” Your grandmother said, getting up and stopped long enough to hug you, and kiss your cheek. “It suits you.” She said, brushing her fingers through your white hair with a smile, before excusing herself.

“It does.” Geralt smirked at you.

“Twins.” You deadpanned, smirking. “And _married_?”

“Uh—yeah.” He nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“You want to explain, how all this shit started?” You asked him, resting your hands on your hips.

Geralt took your hand and pulled you to sit down with him. “I made a choice.” He said, twisting a lock of your wet hair around his finger. “You were...”

“Dying.” You nodded, you had known, the entire time. “I know.”

“Your Grandfather gave me four choices; Start your human heart again, but lose your Dragon nature. Remove your human heart, and have you be a Dragon forever, do the Passage of the Sacred, or let you die.”

“I'm guessing,” You said, looking at the whiteness of your hair, and the new ability to super run. “Your choice, was the Passage.” You wondered what else about you changed.

“It was.” He nodded, squeezing your hand. “I didn't want half of you.” He told you, looking you in the eyes. “and I was worried that, if I picked one of the others; I'd never choose to let you die, _ever_. But, I was worried, if I picked one part over the other, you'd resent me.”

“Geralt.” You sighed, emotional, and cupping his face in your hands. “I would _never_ resent you. For any of those four choices. Not ever.” You kissed him, and felt an exhilarating spark shoot down your spine and through your limbs. “Are we _actually_ married?” You asked, breaking the kiss.

“I, more than, believe so.” Geralt grinned at you, like a giddy boy.

“You both are, yes.” Your Grandmother said, from the doorway.

“You want to explain _that_ to me?” You giggled, eyes still on Geralt.

“I bound myself to you, to save you.” Geralt answered, licking his lips. “I never thought, I'd married, ever, for anything or to anyone. But,” He brushed his thumb over your cheek, and cupped it in his hand. “I am _more_ than all right, being married to you, y/n.”

“I feel the same.” You whispered, grinning at him with butterflies in your stomach.

“So, he's family now. Dragon and all.” Zoe smiled, lovingly, at the both of you, she had come to regard Geralt as a son; anyone, mortal or Dragon, willing to bind themselves to her granddaughter to save her life, had more than earned that right and place in her heart.

“Wait,” You croaked, looking at her. “He can change into a Dragon?” You asked her, shocked.

“Can I?” Geralt snapped, surprised, he hadn't considered it, he didn't have to time too until just now.

Zoe grinned at the both of you, chuckling. “Not exactly.”

“What can he do?” You asked, looking him over and finally noticed the cut on his forehead, at his hairline. “What did you do to your head?” You scolded him, turning his head towards you to examine it.

“He may be able to assume the form of a Dragon, he may not. Marriage to a Dragon, isn't a fine science, and affects all mortals differently. Your lives are bound to each other now..”

“Like, if I die, he dies and vise versa?” You asked, suddenly alarmed and looking away from Geralt's wound.

“No, but if one of you does die, it will be incredibly painful for the other.” She explained, taking a seat in front of you. “Many can die from it. But, you both are very strong individuals, and an even stronger couple. So, I'm sure you'd survive it. He will live a great deal longer than he would have as a Witcher. He might be stronger, faster and more enhanced, as well.” She elaborated.

“I have Dragon eyes too.” He told you, looking at you and making them change, he'd learned, with Asa's help, to do it on will.

“Well, well, well, look at you!” You giggled, impressed and making Geralt lightly blush. “If he was able to shift into a dragon, what color would he be?” You asked your Grandmother.

“That's hard to say.” She said, regarding Geralt with a intent seriousness. “Some Dragon colors are based on their eye or hair color,..”

“Gold Dragons are quite rare and White Dragons are only healers.” Geralt nodded, narrowing his eyes at you as you fussed over the cut.

“Indeed.” Zoe nodded, agreeing. “A Dragon's color is also based on their spirit. So, Geralt could quite honestly be _any_ color.”

“Me minne.” Geralt sighed, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from his face. “I'm fine, really. It's hardly the worse injury you've tended.” He assured you with a sweet smile.

“Luckily for you! I can't even almost die and go on a spiritual journey without you getting hurt somehow.”

“Says the one always getting trapped in cave-ins.” He retorted, snorting.

“I got out of both of them.” You shot back, shaking your head with a smile.

“and I'm still alive.”

“Were the two of you married _beforehand_?” Zoe chuckled at you both, loving bickering.

“She did tell the Bruxa that almost killed her, I was her husband.” Geralt smirked.

You huffed, rolling your eyes and laughed. “I did.” You gripped Geralt's arm as another Shout rocked the cave. “What's going on?” You asked, remembering the Dragons fighting each other.

“Your uncle and his wife, have come to avenge Dasa's death.” Geralt explained to you. “Since you were in the Pool, they just decided to attack the Fjord.”

“Your Grandfather and the Dragon Guard are fighting them, and their few followers.” Zoe added, glancing up at the ceiling.

“I need to help him.” You said, standing up.

“Wait!” Geralt snapped, grabbing you before you could leave.

You turned to him, seeing his worry and fear of losing you again. “I'll be all right, me bleidd.” You told him, softly, resting your hand on his cheek. “I will come back to you. I always do, don't I?”

“You do.” He nodded, feeling useless, how was he supposed to fight a horde of Dragons. “I won't forgive you, if you don't.” He told you, mostly serious.

“Typical Witcher.” You chuckled, pushing up on your toes and kissing him.

“You'll need this.” He said, slipping the Orzac pendant back over your head. “I made sure you kept this.” He said, touching the wolf medallion he'd given you, that still hung around your neck.

“I love you.” You whispered, fondly.

“I love you too.” Geralt smiled, kissing your forehead. “Now, go out there and kick his Dragon ass.”

“Damn right.” You laughed, kissing him one more time and starting out of the cave, but Geralt stopped you again.

“You better come back to me, _whole_ , or I'll put you over my knee.” He smirked, with a wink.

“I will, I promise.” You laughed, then Geralt and Zoe followed you out of the cave.

You looked up at the Dragons battling in the sky, half wondering if the people in Midmaw and else where could hear it. You slipped out of the dress, and tossed it to Geralt, who winked at you, making you snort. “ _Stin Zu'u_.” You snapped and instantly, without pain or thought, shifted into your Dragon form, but you weren't purely Onyx any longer, the row of spikes along your spine and tail were a pure and complete white, like the new color of your hair. You shook your massive body, flexing your wings, and kicked yourself up into the air, taking flight.

“She's beautiful in every form.” Geralt said to himself, making Zoe smirk at him.

“ _Mulhaan_!” You let out the Dragon Shout with a burst of Purple flame, arresting all the Dragons in the sky and getting their attention. “ _It's me, you want, Uncle! So, here I am_.”

“ _So, the whelp lives_.” Orsa laughed, facing you.

“ _Only to die_.” Nira snickered.

“ _Y/n, no!_ ” Orzac yelled, only for Nira to dive at him, Orsa's attention was solely on you.

“ _Shall we?_ ” Orsa said, gaining altitude and flying off to the peaks.

You didn't hesitate to go after him into the mist and snow covered peaks, watching Orsa's red body disappear in the clouds. “ _Lok Vah Koor_.” You shouted and the skies around you cleared, revealing him not far in front of you.

“ _You know your Shouts, for being raised by mortals_.” Orsa laughed, not actually sounding impressed.

“ _I'm a quick learner_.” You replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

“ _Let's see, if you die even faster!_ ” He roared at you.

Orsa shot a burst of red flame at you, forcing you to roll to the side, to dodge it. Fighting him wasn't going to be as easy as fighting Dasa was, Orsa was much older than his son and had been fighting as a Dragon for almost two thousand years, you hadn't even been doing it for a year; so you were going to need to pull out everything you could to win and not get yourself killed. You returned with a burst of purple flame of your own, which he dodged as well, craning his neck around to look at you.

“ _Fus Ro Duh!_ ” He shouted, the blast of the Shout striking you in the side and set you crashing into a mountain peak. You groaned as you skid to a stop, Orsa dropped on top of you, forcing the air out of your lungs, his leg pressed to your neck, claws cutting into your neck. “ _This is how you killed my son, you snapped his neck. Now, I'm going to snap yours_.”

“ _How do you know I killed your runt?_ ” You asked, panting and struggling with him.

“ _A parent always feels their child's death_.” He growled, clamping down on your throat with his mighty jaws.

You struggled with him, fighting desperately to pull your neck out of his mouth and from under his talons, to no avail, he was heavier and stronger than you were. You had the split second thought of Geralt sensing your death, the pain it would give him; he was incredibly strong, your Grandmother was right, but you feared your death would be enough to kill him. Picking up your tail, you slammed it against the ground, making the mountain peak shake, and did it again and again, then felt the rumble and roar of the huge shelf of snow start to give away under the tremor of your tail. Orsa's head jerked up seeing the huge wall of snow racing towards you both, growling, before you both were overtaken by the avalanche, shoved down the mountain side and buried beneath it. Your massive black head popped up out of the snow, shaking the dizziness of rolling so far out of your mind and worked to get yourself free. You shook the snow from your body and wings, looking around for your uncle, seeing him several yards farther down, getting himself free and trying to get back up in the air. You turned around and let out a hot blast of flame, melting all of the snow around him, making him slip as the frigid elevation quickly froze the melted snow over again.

“ _Clever, just like your father_.” Orsa huffed, managing his footing. “ _But, even that didn't save him in the end_.”

“ _A child is more than their parents_.” You told him, shaking your head at him. “ _You could have been so many things, despite what happened between you and Orzac, but you chose to be bitter. That's your fault, not anyone else's. My father knew that, and he tried to be, and you took it out on him and my mother, because you couldn't find what made you happy_.”

“ _And you think, he did?_ ” He growled, lifting himself into the air.

“ _In my mother, in his people; Dragons and Dragarian, and in me_.” You answered, feeling the conviction of your words, remembering the echo of your parents from your Passage. “ _You could have had that with your wife and with Dasa. But, you still decided this course_.”

“ _and I will be successful!_ ” He roared, diving at you.

You dove back at him, both of you throwing Shouts and streams of fire at each other. More avalanches were created from the noise and the quakes of throwing each other against more mountains and down to the valley below. You picked yourself up out of the river Orsa had launched you into, water streaming down your scales, you looked at the long gash on your hind leg and sighed through your nose. Orsa crash landed into the river ahead of you, snickering at you, he barely had a scratch on him. You weren't sure you'd be able to do this, you were growing tired and was bleeding in numerous places.

“Y/n!” Geralt's voice called through the trees.

“ _Geralt!_ ” You yelled back, your alarm growing as Orsa turned his head in the direction of his voice. “ _NO!_ ” You screamed, spinning around and striking Orsa across the face, stunning him. “ _What are you doing here, are you crazy?_ ” You snapped as Geralt came out of the trees and to the edge of the river.

“Your grandfather sent me?” He answered, frowning as he saw your wounds.

“ _Why didn't he come?_ ” You asked, frowning.

“He's been injured by Orsa's wife.” He explained, noticing Orsa coming too.

“ _What did he send you for?_ ” You asked, turning to face your uncle as he stirred.

“To tell you about a Shout.” Geralt told you. “A Shout that should ground your Uncle and weaken him enough to kill him.”

“ _Well?_ ” You asked him, as Orsa got up.

“ _You little brat!_ ” Orsa growled, shaking his head at you. “ _Oh, look who it is, the mortal husband_.” He laughed, seeing Geralt.

“ _Pity, if you died too_.” Nira said, landing behind you.

“ _Geral-_ ” You cried, only be slapped with Orsa's tail.

“ _Hurts, doesn't it!_ ” He hissed, following after you as you crashed through the trees.

“Y/n!” Geralt yelled, moving towards you.

“ _I don't think so, Mortal_.” Nira snickered, stepping in front of him. “You are just as guilty for the death of my son.” She hissed, opening her maw, a white flame burning deep in her throat.

“ _Geralt!!!_ ” You cried, seeing the bright light of Nira's fire.

“ _Aw, that's a shame, to lose someone you love so much_.”

Your massive shoulders slumped and hung your head, there was no point, if you didn't have Geralt. So, you stood there, regarding Orsa with a long face and a tremendous amount of sorrow, giving in. Orsa laughed watching you submit to him, he loomed over you and started to fire.

“ _Zii Los Du!_ ”

The Shout ripped through the air and struck Orsa in the back, making him gasp, his wings folded into his body and he looked at his chest, bright lines crackling through his Ruby scales, he looked at you and then crumbled to dust. You lifted your head and saw a huge Cerulean Blue Dragon with Amber-Gold eyes, regarding you with a smirk.

“ _Me minne_.”

“ _YOU'RE A DRAGON, GERALT!!!_ ” You boomed with excitement, _and_ relief.

“ _And you were just about to let him kill you!_ ” He snapped back, moving closer to you and returning to his Witcher form.

“I thought, I lost you.” You answered, doing the same.

“Never.” He whispered, pulling you against him. “You will never lose me.”

“You won't lose me either.” You whispered back, clinging onto him and burying your face into his bare chest. “What happened to Nira?” You asked, looking up at him.

“It seems, you don't need to be in a Dragon form, to use Dragon Shouts.” He said, brushing his fingers through your hair. “I used the Shout your Grandfather told me to tell you, just before she tried finishing me off, and it...” He looked at the dust pile that was once your uncle. “But,” He looked at you, seeing your wounds. “We need to get you back to the Fjord, to your Grandmother.”

“The only way out of this valley, is to fly.” You told him, looking around.

“Well,” Geralt grinned at you. “That's easy.” He laughed.

“You like this, don't you?” You laughed back, grinning at him.

“There's one thing about it, I won't like.” Geralt replied, putting on a serious face.

“If Jaskier found out about all this, and that you can turn into a giant Blue Dragon, and that's the last fucking thing you need from the people of the Continent, since they already fear and despite you as a lowly Witcher, so it's the last thing you need?” You replied, humorously. “And, I'm just paraphrasing here.” You laughed, seeing his face.

“How polite of you.” Geralt snorted, shaking his head. “But, yes. Can we _not_ mention this to him?” He asked of you.

“I don't know, what you're talking about, Geralt.”

“That's a good wife.” He teased, kissing you.

You and Geralt shifted and returned back to the Fjord, surprising everyone, when they realized that Geralt was the Blue one. Not having their questions and nonsense, Geralt shoved through them to your grandparent's house, ushering you inside so your grandmother could take care of you.

“Where is Nira and Orsa?” Orzac asked, as you laid down for Zoe to tend to your wounds.

“Geralt killed them, with the Shout you told him about.” You hissed as she dabbed some kind of ointment into your wounds.

“You did?” Orzac gasped, surprised.

“Yeah.” Geralt nodded, sitting beside you.

“You can Dragon Shout?” Zoe asked, staring at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, slowly, and glanced at you.

“Is that strange?” You asked, looking at your grandparents.

“Very.” Orzac nodded, tilting his head at Geralt. “No, Mortal as ever been able too.”

“Does it have something to do with our marriage?” You asked, concerned.

“Again, no Mortal, as ever.”

“I believe, it has to do with him touching the waters of the Sacred pools.” Lena said, appearing at the doorway. “Some of y/n's Dragon power, most have infused into him.”

“You went swimming in my water?” You teased Geralt, trying to lighten the mood, seeing Geralt's face darken a bit with discomfort.

“I just dipped my fingers in.” He answered, frowning at you. “I was just doing what Lena told me to do, by think of you, and I just wanted to touch you again.”

You sat up and cupped his face in your hands, resting your forehead against his. “So, you do have feelings.” You whispered to him, smirking.

“I, most certainly, do not.” Geralt replied, with a stern seriousness, that's classic Geralt.

“Of course not, husband.” You giggled. “How silly of me, you're just a emotionless, hardened Witcher, that values his coins and his horse.”

Geralt drew his brows together and frowned at you, narrowing his eyes. “Wait, until you feel better.” He grunted at you, sternly, but you could see amusement and playfulness in his eyes.

“More of this, ' _over my knee_ ' business.” You shook your head at him, sighing, then looked at everyone else. “He's never hurt me. Lord god, do Dragon's not have a humorous tailbone?”

Your Grandparents laughed at that, even Lena chuckled.

“Am I just bad at jokes?” You asked, looking back at Geralt, seeing his smiling face.

“No, me minne.” He chuckled, patting your hand. “It's just your delivery.”

“At least, you're honest.” You smiled, kissing his cheek.

“We'll let you two rest.” Zoe said, patting Orzac on the arm and ushering him and Lena out of the room, and closed the door behind them.

“Where was I?” Geralt asked, suddenly pulled you over his lap.

“Geralt!” You laughed, squirming against his thick thighs.

“What did I tell you?” He smirked, letting you squirm.

“You told me, and I quote; ' _You better come back to me_ , whole, _or I'll put you over my knee_.' And, I did come back to you, _whole_!” You wiggled in his lap, fake struggling with him.

“You did, lucky for you, y/n.” Geralt laughed, but, still gave your butt a playful pop of his hand.

“Geralt!” You squeaked, laughing and sitting back up. “You!” You slapped him on the chest. “You can just say, you were scared I wouldn't.” You teased him, knowing he was covering up his deeper emotions. “You don't have to hide from me, _Witcher_. I love you, and..” You blushed, licking your lips. “I'm _your wife_ , Geralt.”

His shoulders drew up, about to protest, but dropped them with an exhale of breath, and pulled you to sit in his lap, locking his strong arms around you and burying his face into your neck, swallowing thickly, and sniffling. You closed your arms around him and pressed your face into his neck, letting your own emotions free, crying with him.

“I never thought, I'd love anyone more than..” He paused, picking up his head, resting his fingers under your chin and lifting your head to look at him.

“Yennefer?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Anyone more than, _Roach_.” He chuckled, grinning at you.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, resting a hand on your chest. “A Witcher with humor!”

“Now, now.” Geralt tutted at you. “No rumors.” He wagged a finger at you.

“Then, what do you want?” You asked him, leveling an eyebrow at him.

Geralt shifted you in his lap, so you straddled him. “I want to hear you Dragon Shout my name.” He growled, his gold eyes glowing and narrowing.

“I can more than do that.” You sighed, grinning and licking your lips, your silver eyes shining and changing too. “Let's just not Shout the house down, hm.”

“Hm.” Geralt grunted, laying you down, kissing at your neck and throat, palming your breasts he did. “I've missed touching you.” He rasped, biting your neck.

“It's only been two days, Geralt.” You laughed, pushing your chest up against his hands. “Needy and greedy, such a Dragon for you.”

“I am a Witcher, not a Dragon.” Geralt replied, making you moan as he squeezed your breasts, harder.

“Be what you wish, _Witcher_ , as long as you're inside me soon.” You panted, brushing your hands through his hair and squeezing his shoulders.

“Hm, and I'm the needy and greedy one.” He chuckled, slipping his hand down your stomach and between your legs, melting you into a moan. “and you _are_ a Dragon.” He teased you, his fingers working your clit. “And beautiful.”

“As a Dragon or as a Human?” You asked, licking your lips and moaning, rolling your hips to increase the friction of his strong fingers.

“Both.” He whispered, kissing your mouth and slipping two of his fingers in at once. “So warm, like the furnace of a Dragon.” He chuckled, slipping his fingers deeper into you and stimulate your spot, before moving down your body and closed his mouth around your pussy, still fingering you.

“Oh fuck!” You cried, tossing your head back. “Geralt!” You panted, eyes crossing.

“Hm.” He smirked against your clit, flicking his tongue against your nub, like a snake. “So sweet, like honey.”

You picked your head and looked down your body at him, “What have you done with my Wolf?” You asked, then cried out as he thrust his fingers against your cervix and nipped at your clit.

Geralt smirked at you, licking at your folds and teasing your sweet spot and cervix in a cruel slowness. He picked up his head, his thumb taking his tongue's spot at your nub and watched you wither under his touch, your face twisting with pleasure and steady whimpers and moans. He sat up, bending one of your knees and smirked, seeing how wet you were, dripping around his fingers and between the cleft of your ass, and the growing damp spot on the bed sheet beneath you. He gave you a smug smirk, curling his fingers into your spot, working them hard. You grasped the sheets beneath you and pushed down on his fingers, desperate to come around them, but Geralt chuckled, just as you were about to, and pulled his fingers free.

“Oh, you fucking, JOOR!!” You barked at him, growling.

“Dov.” Geralt growled back, grabbing you by the thighs and yanking you down to him, grinding his hard and dripping cock against your wet pussy.

“Geralt.” You growled at him, teeth clenched, against your still very near orgasm, and gripping his hips. “Don't fucking tease me!”

“Tease you.” He huffed, thrusting against you. “I thought, you wanted my cock?”

“Zu'u Laan Hi!” You shouted, making the room shake, and dug your nails into the skin of his hips.

The air between you and Geralt vibrated, both your Dragon eyes glowing at each other, the temperature in the room heated up, fogging the windows and breaking you both out into a sweat. Geralt gripped the base of his cock and pressed his tip between the lips of your pussy and into your core. You let out a hot breath as he filled you, his cock hot and thick as your walls hugged around it, letting you feel every inch of him; you were so tight around him, he felt like you were apart of him. He thrust into you, shaking the bed, the headboard slamming against the wall and neither of you caring who or what heard it and you. You were already close to coming, so you only held out for two of Geralt's powerful thrusts, coming so hard all you could do was let out a shaky and sighing breath, relaxing, heavy and euphoric. But, that didn't last, even without the Dragonkin, Geralt had the stamina of a god, and only thrust into you harder.

“Are you trying to make sure, I don't get out of bed.” You panted, locking your legs around his hips and squeezing, hard, to hold him deeper into you.

“Every time, you get out of bed, we end up in trouble!” He barked, grabbing you and pulling you into a heated and hungry kiss. “Or near death.” He added and tugged on your bottom lip, drawing blood.

“Like, you have room to talk!” You snapped, yanking your legs in and pushing him back, straddling him as his back hit the mattress. “How many times, have you been poisoned!” You clawed his chest, making him hiss, and blood bloom from your nail tracks.

“Protecting you!”

“The Kikimora!”

“I let it wound me!”

You froze, your mouth dropping open at his confession, eyes huge. “You what?” You panted out, finally.

Geralt gulped, catching his breath. “I let the Kikimora attack me, I heard it was nearby and I allowed it to wound me, just before I killed it.”

“Why!” You exclaimed, horrified.

“So, I had a reason to see you again!” Geralt snapped, defensive. “For you, to take care of me.” He added, softer. “I found out you lived in Crasmere, and wanted to see you again, but I was too cowardly to just come to you, so I found a Kikimora, let it wound me, killed it, and then traveled to the two days to you.” He explained.

You just stared down at him, eyes large and mouth gaping, his cock still firmly housed inside of your core. Never in a million years, did you think Geralt was so reckless and senseless, especially with something that could have caused him his life. “You could have _died_ , before you reached me, Geralt.” You shook, pressing your palms to his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart, the sound of it, and yours, filling the room. “You could have died, period!” You cried, gulping down thick saliva.

“I would have died, if you didn't return my love.” He said, quietly, looking away from you and pushing his jaw forward, pressing his lips together. “So, it wouldn't have mattered.”

“Geralt.” You choked, dropping your head forward and sniffling. “Geralt.” You sighed, his name all your brain and mouth could form and contemplate, as you hugged yourself against him, snaking your arms around his torso and pressing your cheek to his chest. “I loved you, the moment at the inn, when we were laying down, and we spoke, until I fell asleep.” Geralt's arms wrapped around you, holding your arms against your sides, his hands pressing against your back and rubbing up and down your spine, mindful of your wounds there. “I never slept—I never _sleep_ —as well, as I do, when you're in the room, in the bed, with me.”

“Nor do I.” He whispered into your hair, caressing his fingers through it and brushing it off your back.

His arms squeezed you, reassuringly, gently tilting his hips upward, rolling them into you, and making you moan out a sigh of pleasure. Geralt buried his nose into your hair, taking deep breaths of your scent, moaning as the smell of Sunflowers and Cedarwood greeted his senses, giving him a strange feeling in his stomach, that he was steadily learning was what love, peace and belonging felt like. You hummed, smiling against his shoulder, closing your eyes to the comforting scent of warm grass, fresh air and _Chamomile_. It made sense to you now, everyone that smelled Geralt, smelled blood, death and horse. Horse was obvious, his strong attachment to Roach. But, the blood and death, was because, not just that he was a Witcher, rather that everyone saw him as a emotionless, harsh monster, who does nothing, but kill and make trouble. Even Yennefer only smelled that, and Geralt had been rather attached to her, not like he was with you, though.

You smelled the _real_ Geralt of Rivia.

Warm, because he was a warm person; if you got past the hard shell he'd covered himself in for the hundred years of discrimination and cruelty, to survive the Trials of a Witcher, the abandonment of his mother. Grass, he was destine to be a Witcher, destine to survive the transformation, excel at it and endure more. But, also because, Grass is... _stable_ , it protects the land it grows on, from erosion; like how Geralt protects people from monsters, he's consistent and strong. Fresh air, because he's free and honest, going in all directions, following the best currents to where he needs to be, and sometimes where he's not. The Chamomile...

“What are you laughing at?” He asked, tilting his head to look at you.

“Just thinking about you.” You replied, turning your head to rest your chin on his chest, smiling at him.

“Oh?” He lifted his brows at you.

“It just dawned on me,” You blushed, kissing his chest for a moment. “Why you smell like Chamomile.”

“Because, Jaskier rubs it on my _lovely bottom_.” He snorted, rolling his eyes and pushing deep into your core.

You sighed, pushing back against him. “That.” You chuckled, tracing his brow and cheekbone. “But, because you are so soothing. You are so, utterly, capable of gentleness, like none other. The love you've cradled so close to your heart, inside the fortress you've had to build to protect yourself, from so many things. You are so sweet, and thoughtful, and affectionate, and protective. You tried to hide it, under the scent of blood and death.” Your silver eyes held an expression of such tenderness.

“And Roach.” Geralt added, gliding his fingertips over your temple and cheek. “You are the only one to, have ever, known this.” He said, resting his hand on the back of your head. “That I have, ever, truly let in.”

You gasped softly, your eyes falling shut and resting your head back in his hand as you felt him orgasm, pressing his forehead to yours as he did. The muscles of your stomach tightened and you came a moment later, feeling your combine juices ooze out, making you both slick and sticky. Geralt dropped his head back against the sheets and you pressed yours to his chest, both of you sedated, filled and connected.


	18. Opals and Scales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Geralt have gifts for each other, and decide to return home.

“Mmm, hot water.” You moaned, sinking into the hot spring, beside Geralt.

“It is a marvelous thing.” He agreed, smirking at you. “Did your grandmother say anything?” He asked, he got an amused smirk from your grandfather as he headed for the hot spring to bathe.

“Yeah.” You laughed, the sound echoing off the rock. “She said, she was surprised, we didn't busted out any of the windows in our room.”

Geralt laughed, pulling you into his lap. “Not from a lack of trying.” He sighed, kissing up your neck and along your jaw. “Here.” He whispered, opening his legs and turning you around to sit between his thighs.

He carefully got your hair wet, picking up the soap and washed it, mindful of your face and eyes as he rinsed it out, then had you stand, washing your body and noticing your wounds were mostly pinkish marks on your skin now. You smiled at him, his tender affection and loving care of you, then returned the favor, washing his silvery-white hair and his thick, muscular body, tracing the scars covering him as you washed the soap away. You slipped back into his lap and rested your head on his shoulder, extremely tired, despite being asleep, in sorts, during your Passage. Staying in the spring for a little while longer, you and Geralt headed back to your room and decided to rest, instead of joining your Grandparents, for dinner.

“How long do you want to stay?” Geralt asked, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you back against him.

“I don't know.” You yawned, relaxing against him. “I should probably find out, if there's any other abilities I've picked up from the Passage.” You said, slowly falling asleep.

“That's probably for the best.” Geralt agreed, kissing the back of your shoulder.

– –

“Y/n, good morning.” Orzac smiled at you as he paused at shore of the lake.

“I have a question, and possibly a request, to ask of you.” You told him, stopping by his side.

“How can I be of help?” He replied, tilting his head at you as he resumed walking, you following along.

“It has to do with Geralt and I being married.” You told him, regarding him.

“Are you unhappy with the union?”

“No.” You shook your head, frowning. “Not in the slightest. I think, we have more in common and love each other more, than my first husband, Eren, and I did.” You paused, remembering what Eren had said to you; Geralt was your _true_ soulmate, your _real_ husband.

“Then, what are you asking?” Orzac asked, studying you.

“I want to have a ring, a signet, for him made.” You explained to him.

“Do you have a design in mind?” He inquired.

“I do.” You nodded, then explained to him what you wanted.

“I am sure, our smith can manage that.” Orzac grinned, liking your idea for it.

“Thank you.” You smiled back at him, relieved.

After speaking with your Grandfather, you found the smith and explained to him what you wanted, learning that the signet would be done soon. Thanking him, you turned your attentions to finding Lena, she'd offered to help you discover what new abilities you had from the Ritual.

“Hello, y/n.” Lena smiled, as you found her by the main pool of the caverns.

“Lena.” You smiled back, nodding your head to her, politely.

“You've come for your Ritual Training.” She said, matter-of-fact.

“I have.” You nodded, glancing around, you hadn't really paid attention to the place the last time you were there.

“Excellent, let's try somethings out.” Lena smiled, and ushered you into another room.

– –

“Geralt.” Orzac smiled, as the Witcher entered the large garden the Gold Dragon tended.

“I see, where y/n gets her green thumb.” Geralt commented, looking the garden over.

“Is she a talented gardener?” Orzac asked, dusting the soil off his hands.

“Exceedingly.” He nodded, checking out the plot the other male had been tending.

“Is there something I can do for you?” He asked, lifting his brows at the Witcher.

“There is.” Geralt nodded, brows creasing with thought. “I want a ring made for y/n.” He said, blushing softly, he'd never done anything like this before.

“Oh?” Orzac grinned at him, his amusement even greater, after his talk with you that morning. “What kind?”

“Well,” Geralt sighed, shoving his hand into his pocket, and closing his fist around something. “A _very_ long time ago, not long after I started Witchering, I was given this as payment for a monster I killed.” He explained, pulling the object out of his pocket and revealing it.

“A Black Opal.” Orzac smirked, studying it.

“Yeah, it reminds me of her scales, how they shine, when the light hits them.” He explained, his reasoning. “I was hoping to use it as a setting.”

“You'll need a band to put it in.” Orzac agreed, nodding his head.

“That's my problem.”

“I have a solution to it.” He replied, looking thoughtful. “Follow me.” He said, leading Geralt back inside the house and to his study, searching the drawers of his desk. “This, was the wedding band, Ronar had made for y/n's mother. The diamond was lost along the way, but, it's the only thing that survived their deaths, other than y/n, herself. Dragirium is incredibly hard to destroy once it's been forged.” He explained, holding out the red metal band. “If you'd like, I will give it to you. You can have our smith, Milos, set the Opal into it.”

Geralt took the band from him, studying it. “It's warm.” He frowned, looking up at Orzac.

“And, it always will be, its retained the heat of Ronar and Izzi's breathes. They imbued it, and it was meant to go with y/n, but it was forgotten. When Zoe and I reached where they'd been killed, that was all that was left, and we had no idea where y/n had been taken, so we couldn't bring her back here with us, to be raised.”

“Then, it's perfect.” Geralt smiled, stroking it with his thumb. “Thank you.”

“Of course, it belongs with her, like you do, Witcher.” He smirked, happy with the pair of you being one. “But, Witcher.” He called as Geralt started to leave to meet with Milos. “There's something you should know.”

Geralt tilted his head, frowning. “What?”

“She's not safe.”

“What are you talking about?” Geralt snapped, turning back to him.

“Several of Orsa's followers have escaped the battle, they will go and tell the mortals of her existence, not only, is she's the rarest of our kind, she is what all treasure hunters spend their lives looking for. To kill a mighty Black Dragon, there's numerous Kingdoms that would give great spoils for that bragging right.”

“But, what's that have to do with Orsa's people?” Geralt asked, faking ignorance.

“What better way to ensure your enemy dies, than sending an entire Continent of people after them. Makes having hiding places nearly impossible.” He told him, knowing Geralt wasn't that naive. “I'm sure, even now, there are several Dragon Hunters sitting and waiting for her to show her face.”

“Why can't people just like her the fuck alone.” Geralt growled, rolling his eyes.

“It's always the brightest star, that gets the most attention.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Is there anything we can do?” Geralt sighed, feeling tired again.

“No.” Orzac shook his head. “Other than the obvious of keeping her safe.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Geralt groaned, rolling his eyes and made his way to the smith. “I want you to fit this,” he said, holding out the Opal. “Into this.” He handed him the band.

“Easily done.” Milos nodded, taking both and going into the back of his shop for a few minutes, then came back out with the finished ring. “Anything else?”

“No, thanks.” Geralt said, gently stroking the Opal, carefully set into the red band, and turned away from him. “Hey, Love.” He smiled, crossing you on the path. “I was just about to look for you. Did you find out anything new?” he asked, looking you over.

“Speed, Endurance and Healing.” You answered, studying him. “What have you been doing all day?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Nothing important.” He answered, licking his lips. “But, we do need to talk.”

“About what?” You narrowed your eyes at his tone.

“Walk with me.” He suggested, moving towards your grandfather's garden. “You grandfather brought something to my attention.”

“Oh, gods.” You sighed, rubbing your face, you didn't like the sound of that.

“It seems, that some of your uncle's followers managed to escape, and have, more than likely, started their own revenge on you, by telling Treasure Seekers and Dragon Hunters about you.”

Your shoulders slumped and growled. “Of fucking course, I can't get a moment of fucking peace. I should have never taken up Tankred's bidding to help Midmaw.”

“You would have been haunted by it, if you hadn't. We both know that, y/n.” Geralt sighed, slipping his hand into yours. “Besides, Dasa had planned on looking for you, so it would have come to your attention and door step sooner, rather than later.”

You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut, Geralt was more than right on both points. “I just want my quiet little, healing and monster hunting life back.” You whispered, glancing around the garden, impressed. “With you.” You added, looking up at Geralt. “We're supposed to be on our vacation.” You smirked.

“We still can.” Geralt replied, raising your hand to his lips. “We'll just have to be more careful, is all.”

“I don't want to do it here, Geralt.” You sighed, blushing softly.

“I know, perhaps my gift will, lighten your mood.” He smirked, pulling you to a stop.

“You have a gift for me?” You asked, lifting a suspicious brow at him.

“I do.” Geralt nodded, pulling the ring out of his pocket and presenting it to you.

“Geralt.” You blushed, seeing the shimmering Black Opal inlaid into the Dragirium band.

“I've had the Opal for quite some time, but the band, your grandfather gave me.” He explained, carefully slipping it onto your finger. “It was part of the wedding ring your father gave your mother. The original stone was lost.”

“It's warm.” You said, stroking it.

“According to your Grandfather, your parents imbued it with their breaths, and you were originally meant to have it, but since Ethos and Emela had already taken you to your adopted parents, Orzac and Zoe weren't able to give it to you; or raise you.”

“How romantic.” You grinned up at him, touched. “I have something for you too.”

“Do you?” He asked, amused.

“Give me a second.” You said, kissing him then racing away in a blur, only to return a second later.

“That is incredible, by the way.” Geralt said, eyes wide.

“Isn't it.” You giggled, then held up the Dragirium signet to him. “I know, you're not huge on jewelry, so this is a happy medium.”

“What's the gem in the middle?” He frowned, rubbing the pad of his thumb over it.

“It's not a gem.” You smirked, watching him. “It's a scale.”

“A scale?” Geralt met your eyes.

“Yeah, one of mine.” You told him giddy.

“Did you rip one of your scales off?” He asked, concerned.

“No.” You laughed, resting your hands on his hips. “My Grandfather removed it magically, scales grow back like fingernails, so it'll be fully back in a month or so. It didn't hurt, if that's your worry. It tickled, actually.”

“As long as you weren't in any pain.” He said, slipping it onto his pinky. “I'm a fancy Witcher now.” He teased, smirking.

“Don't let it go to your head, husband.” You hummed, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugged yourself against his solid body. “Would you be upset, if I said, I wanted to go home soon?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No.” Geralt shook his head, brushing his fingers through your hair and pressing his lips to your forehead. “Would you be upset, if I told you, I'd rather not fly back to Midmaw?”

“No.” You snorted. “I really don't want to use my Dragarian side, unless I really have too. It might help cut down on the Treasure and Dragon hunters.”

“I think, that is the wisest course of action.” Geralt agreed with you, feeling a lot better that you had brought up, what he'd been dreading too. “How about we stay the week, give ourselves time to prepare for the journey, and for your grandparents to have time to say good-bye to you, you are the only family, they have left.”

“More than fair.” You nodded, resting your head against his chest.

You and Geralt stood there, in the center of your Grandfather's garden, holding onto each other, like you could hold the entire world together, and cradle the peacefulness of the growing night, protectively, between your bodies.

– –

A week later, with a guide, You and Geralt parted from the Obsidian Fjord.

“Don't make yourselves strangers.” Zoe said, hugging you for the millionth time, her usual mint-green eyes, a mossy color, from all the tears she'd shed during the week.

“We won't, I promise.” You smiled, hugging her back and kissing her cheek.

“You take care of her, Witcher.” Orzac rumbled, with playful sternness. “She is the only of my blood left.”

“We'll take care of each other.” Geralt chuckled, nodding his head to him, assuring him he would. “You going to be all right?” He asked a little while later, after the guide showed you both off the shelf and on the road back to Midmaw; you'd been unusually quiet.

“I'm fine.” You answered, shifting against his back as you sat in the saddle behind him. “Though, I'm wondering, why didn't we just portal to Midmaw?” You frowned over his shoulder.

“We haven't been alone, since we left Crasmere.” Geralt reasoned, resting his hand back on your thigh. “We've always been in the company of one person, or a room away from someone else. I just want to spend the time traveling back to Midmaw, alone, with my wife.” He said, smiling over his shoulder at you.

You smirked at him. “You are more than right about that.” You agreed, pressing closer to him. “A week or so, out in the fresh mountain air, just you and I, will be a wonder.” You sighed, closing your eyes, feeling the heat of the sun on your back and the warmth of Geralt's body in front of you, made you hum, content.

You hadn't realized, you'd fallen asleep until you felt Geralt carefully pull you down from the horse your Grandfather had given you. It was dark and cool in the valley, the serene gurgle of a stream at the edge of your camp, surrounded by tall reeds and grass.

“ _Aenye_.” You whispered in Elder Speech, your hand hovering above the stack of wood Geralt had brought back to the camp with him, a spark jumping from your fingertips and catching it.

“That's handy.” He chuckled, pulling out the food your Grandmother had packed you both for the journey.

“Being a Mage has always had it's perks.” You smiled, taking some of the food from him and scooted closer to the fire. “You think, any of those Hunters will actually try and attack me?” You asked, taking a swallow of Honey mead.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded, picking at his bit of bread, he'd been bothered by the scenario, ever since Orzac had told him about it. “Especially, the fucking Reavers.” He huffed, wrapping up his portion of the food; appetite lost. “Two years before, you and I met, I helped another Gold Dragon, actually meant to ask your Grandfather, if he knew him. Borch Three Jack Daws, or Villentretenmerth, with a task. A Green Dragon had, seemingly, attacked Malleore for nothing, and the king there set up teams to track it down and kill it.”

“What happened?” You asked, moving closer to him, with interest.

“Well, Borch tracked me, and Jaskier, down and asked me to join his team. The other teams were a group of Dwarves, Yennefer and her escort, Sir Eyck.” He rolled his eyes, remembering the annoying kid. “and the Reavers.”

“Yennefer wasn't with you three?” You frowned, at him.

“No, and there were four of us; me, Jaskier, Borch and Borch's escorts and lovers, Téa and Véa. Yennefer and I, though we loved each other, the foundation of our relationship wasn't exactly the most stable.”

“Is that why she's so bitter at you, and even more hateful at me?” You asked, turning and laying your head down on his thigh.

Geralt smiled down at you, brushing his fingers through your hair, despite the old painful twinge of his broken love with Yennefer. “Very.” He nodded, picking up the blanket and covering you with it, the cold valley wind kicking up. “But, on the way up, Eyck was killed by Boholt, the leader of the Reavers. While he was taking a shit, none-the-less.” He chuckled. “So, I convinced her to come with Borch and I. The Dwarves, offered a shorter route to the top of the mountain, the Green Dragon was supposed to be hiding in. The _route_ was actually very rickety planks of wood bolted into the mountain face.”

Your eyes closed as you listened to his voice, the soothing touch of his hand resting on your hip.

“About halfway, the planks beneath Borch and the Zerrikanians, his lovers, broke and they fell, just managing to grab the links of the chain. I tried to save them, but Borch let go and so did Téa and Véa, not wanting to live without him, I supposed.” He said, softening his voice as he listened to the sound of your breathing lighten. “We finished getting across the planks, and camped at the top, it was late by the time we got there, if we went for the Dragon, when we did, it would have been completely dark, and even more dangerous.”

“Smart.” You mumbled, rubbing your cheek against the black fabric of his pants.

“I thought so.” Geralt chuckled, smirking and then paused.

“It's all right, if you and Yennefer fucked, Geralt.” You chuckled, turning your head to look up at him. “I won't get jealous.”

“Well,” He blushed. “We did. Then, the next morning, I tried to convince her to go back down the mountain with me, I didn't much care to kill the Dragon, let alone become lord of a vassal state, and what she was there for, was even more pointless.” He huffed, and expected you to ask why Yen was there, but you didn't, you just laid still against him. “But, she wouldn't listen. Then, we noticed the Dwarves were gone, and ran after them.”

“What happened, then?” You asked, when he was quiet for a moment.

“Hm.” He hummed frowning, staring into the small fire. “We found the Green Dragon, already dead. She'd died from her little attack on the city, giving her last strength in protecting her egg.”

You opened your eyes and rolled onto your back, keeping your head on his leg and the blanket over you. “She was protecting her offspring?” You asked, staring up at him.

“Mmhm.” Geralt nodded. “Borch was the sire of the egg, he was protecting his young, but knew he couldn't do it alone, so he came to me. _The Witcher that was taught to_ save _Dragons, not kill them_.”

“Who taught you that?” You asked, frowning at him.

“My mother.”

“Didn't she drop you off with Kaer Morhen, when you were like, six or seven?”

“She did.” Geralt nodded, gulping.

“Then, how did Borch know, that she taught you to save us, not kill us?” You asked, not realizing you said us.

Geralt took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. “Because, I knew Borch, when I was a wee lad.”

“What?” You snapped, surprised, and sat up.

“My mother was—is a Sorceress, Visenna. I don't know how, but, when I was just a little boy, he lived with my mother and I. So, he knew how she raised me, I suppose, and remembered that; when he was in need of saving his offspring from the hunting teams.”

“Well, that explains why you were so attracted to me.” You teased him, laying back down. “Sensed those Dovah genes.” You giggled.

“Ah, yes, that was my madness the whole time.” He teased you back.

You shook your head against his leg. “I see how it is, you only love me for my scales.”

“Now, that I am in ownership of one of them, I think, I'll just slip off into the night.” He chuckled, staring at the signet you had made for him.

“You'd never!” You huffed, glancing up at him.

“You'll find out, if I'm not here in the morning.” He laughed, twisting your hair around his finger.

“I'd never forgive you.” You pouted.

“Oh, like when you nicked off without a word to me.” He countered, lifting a brow at you.

“That's more than fair.” You agreed, biting your lip. “I am sorry, about that.”

“It's fine, me minne.” Geralt whispered, gliding his knuckles against your cheek. “I'm not going anywhere, without you. You're stuck with me, like a ball and chain.”

You looked up at him, smiling softly. “At least, you're good on the eyes, and amazing in bed.” You teased him.

“Is that all I'm good for?” He chuckled, lightly tapping you on the nose.

“You have other redeeming qualities.” You replied, tapping his nose back.

“Rest, minne.” He whispered, pulling the blanket up over your shoulder as goosebumps rippled over your skin. “I'll be right here, when you wake.” He promised, resting back against the sapling behind him.

“Are you not going to sleep?” You mumbled, already drifting off.

“Not, just now.” He whispered, looking around the surrounding darkness and carefully tossed another log into the fire. “I'm restless, but I'll follow you to sleep, soon.” He assured you, even though he didn't, he was on alert. Now, outside the guarded protection of the Fjord and your Grandfather, Geralt was concerned of the things he couldn't see in that darkness, coming to harm you as he slept. He didn't want them sneaking in, before he was able to wake and protect you.

– –

“Good morning.” Geralt smiled, feeling you stir and watched you yawn.

“Morning.” You answered, sitting up. “Hm, thank you.” You took the cup of cold water from him and sipped it. “Did you sleep last night?” You asked, seeing the tired look on his face.

“For a bit.” He exaggerated, he dozed off for an hour, before jerking awake, nearly waking you up in the process. “Witchers don't need much sleep, to start with.” He added, seeing the suspicious tilt of your head.

You pressed your lips together, but didn't press him for it, it wasn't a good way to start the morning, arguing with your significant other. “Fair enough.” You shrugged, finishing off the water and helped him re-saddle the horse, then let him pull you up behind him. “Emela and Ethos are going to lose their minds, when they see me again.” You said, glancing around the valley, you hadn't gotten the chance the last time you were here, from so high up in the sky and blurred between the line of life and death.

“They are.” Geralt agreed, eyes fixed ahead.

“Geralt?” You whispered, you could feel the growing tension in his body, even through his armor, that he hadn't worn in several weeks.

“Hm?” He grunted, turning his head slightly.

“What's wrong?” You asked, giving him a soft and concerned expression.

“Nothing.” He answered, in short.

“You're afraid.” You whispered, softly. “Of losing me.”

“Yes.” He snapped, irritated and cranky.

You squeezed his hips with your thighs and hugged your arms tighter around his middle. “Nothing's taking me from you, Geralt.” You tried to reassure him, pressing your lips to the back of his shoulder.

“You don't know that.” He grunted.

“Death couldn't take me from you.” You snapped back. “My cousin, my Uncle. None of it, took me from you. It only made us stronger, together.” You whispered, nuzzling his shoulderblade. “and it will only continue to do so.” You promised him. “What are you doing?” You frowned, when he pulled the horse to a stop and swung his leg over his neck, sliding out the saddle and reached up for you. You slipped out of the saddle and into his arms, without question. “Geralt?”

He set you on your feet, taking your hand and pulled you through the tall grass at either side of the worn trail, coming just above your waist. Geralt said nothing, but stopped again, turning towards you and taking both of your hands in his. “You promise it?” He asked, finally, squeezing your hands.

“Yes.” You nodded, still confused.

“You swear it?” He pulled you closer to him.

“With all that I have.” You answered, tilting your head.

“You mean it?” He kissed your forehead, and you smiled.

“More than life and death, itself.”

“You'll stay with me, always?” He kissed your cheeks.

“I am nowhere, that is not with you.”

“You'll fight with me?” He kissed your shoulder.

“Wherever there's a monster, or a decent enough argument.” You giggled, still smiling.

“You'd live for me?” He wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I'd die for you.” You said, with heartfelt convictions.

“Would you die for me?” He nipped at your neck.

“I would live for you.” You swore, tugging on the ties of his armor.

“Would you listen to me?” He slowly freed the strings of your shirt.

“To your sense, and your nonsense.”

“Will you lay with me?” He whispered, lips hovering before yours.

“Til dusk and dawn, from the beginnings of time and beyond the ends of it.” You whispered back, lips touching his, like the caress of a ghost's, as you spoke the words.

“Would you marry me?” His lips moved a fraction closer.

You rolled your eyes. “With all those things, yes.” You nodded, eyes holding his.

Geralt let your clothing pool at your feet, followed by his armor and his own clothing, then pulled you against him, finally kissing you with surging passion. You wrapped your arms around Geralt's neck, letting him pick you up and lock your legs around his waist, moaning at the taste of him filling your mouth as his tongue parted your lips. He slowly turned and eased himself down to his knees, laying you down in the grass, making his scent of warm grass even stronger, as was the scent of fresh air, it made sparking pops go off in your mind and race to all the tips and ends of your body and soul. You sighed, feeling Geralt slip into your core, and a giggle bubbled up from your stomach as you looked up, the way the early morning sun played off the strands of Geralt's hair, the way it made the tops of the wild grass seem like it was on fire, swaying in the gentle breeze, filling your ears with the rustling of the dry blades and the still near gurgling of the stream, mixed with the heavy breathing of you and Geralt, moans lost in the wind and occasional snort of the horse, neglected on the path. You closed your eyes, softly, and focused on the feel and sound of everything, the feel of Geralt's body resting against yours, him moving inside of you, the pleasure of both your bodies mingling together as one.

“I fear for you, my Witcher.” You said, turning your head to look at him.

“Why's that?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“I think, I've made you quite soft.” You giggled, rolling onto your belly beside him. “Quoting, what could be, for you, poetry. Spurred love making in the grass. Showing you have emotions, after all.”

Geralt snorted, grinning. “You've learned all my secrets.” He said, softly, looking at you from the corners of his eyes.

“Then, what will I have left to discover in the decades to come, with you?” You teased him, tracing your fingertips up his abdomen and stomach.

“Oh, I'm sure, there are things that even I don't know, about myself.” He chuckled, brushing a wind blown strand of hair behind your ear.

“I'm quite content, you know.” You confessed to him, freeing a blade of grass from his hair.

“With me?” He asked, his heart skipping for a moment, before he saw the answer light up your eyes.

“Yes.” You nodded, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Content and peaceful.”

“As am I.” Geralt replied, turning his head to capture your lips properly. “We should go.” He sighed, sitting up.

“Now, you're in a rush.” You giggled, picking up your clothing and pulling them back on, Geralt helping you with the ties.

“No.” He grinned, his cheeks warming a bit. “I just don't want us to be late either.”

“Late?” You laughed, shaking your head. “Late, where? Do we have an appointment to keep, I don't know of?”

“Not exactly.” Geralt huffed. “I promised you a vacation, back in Crasmere, and it's-” He glanced up at the sky. “almost becoming to late for planting.”

Your head jerked with surprise, narrowing your eyes at him. “What, are you leaving Witchering, to become a farmer?”

“No, but, I do have a few presents in my saddlebags for you, that I'd love see bloom in the spring.”

“You got me seeds for my garden?” You grinned, warmed and flattered.

“I have.” He nodded, nudging the horse forward.

“What are they?” You asked, resting your chin on his shoulder, to see his face.

“You'll see, when we get back to _home_.” He said, glancing at you, his face expressionless, not giving any hints away.

“I'll just have to sneak into your bags, while you're asleep.” You teased him.

“You'll do no such thing, cause as soon as we make it back to Midmaw, we're going to portal to Rhine for Roach and portal to the cottage, after that. So, no sleep.” He laughed, kissing your cheek. “I thought it all out, knowing you would try and snoop.”

“You know me, so well.” You giggled.


	19. Reunite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling through the Dragon Mountains back to Midmaw has its dangers and close calls, but you finally make it back to Midmaw, then reunite with Jaskier in Rinde.

You shrieked as you were picked up, arms and legs flailing, then got thrown off the side of a cliff, your heart launching into your stomach at the free fall, the ground rushing up towards you...

Okay, that's being dramatic, and Geralt would tell you so. He'd only tossed you off a tall bank into the lake, you had come upon as you journeyed farther out of the Dragon Mountains, going back to Midmaw. You resurface to Geralt howling with laughter, and scowled at him, then with a flash, you were out of the water and dripping behind him, hands planted against his broad back and doing your level best to shove him off the bank, since you couldn't pick him up.

“Is that all you have?” Geralt continued to laugh, his body swaying a little bit under your pushing. “You're a Dragon, and that's all the strength you can muster?” He teased you, planting his feet. “Oh no, you don't!” He snorted, quickly hugging your arms to your sides with his as you started to make the Aard sign. “I don't think so!” He laughed, picking you up again and stepping off the bank and dropping both of you into the water, this time. “You're holding back, and you know it!” He tormented you, splashing you as your head came up to the surface.

“I don't want to hurt you.” You sassed, splashing him back.

Geralt suddenly grabbed you, pressing your back to his chest and covered your mouth with his palm, pinching your nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Ssshh.” He whispered into your ear, before letting his body weight sink you both back under the water.

Glancing upward, you could see the swimming silhouettes of two men, luckily, the horse was on the other side of the lake, out of view and sound of the two. You watched the two men get closer, standing on the bank a little distance away from where you and Geralt had just jumped from.

“I could have sworn, I heard someone.” One of the men said, surveying the area.

“Ah, you're just hearing things.” the other huffed, rolling his eyes. “You know, they say this place is haunted with the victims of the Dragons.” He said, turning way from the water and going back up to the trail.

“I'm telling you!” the first one snapped, glancing at the water once more, before following him.

Geralt held you under the water for a minute longer, before you both quietly surfaced. “Come on.” He whispered, pulling you back towards where you left the horse and your clothing.

“Who do you think they are?” You asked, getting dressed.

“I don't know.” Geralt answered, pulling his shirt over his head. “Explorers, thieves, _hunters_...” he let the last word hang in the air between you both, the word that had been worrying you both since you left the Fjord. “The faster we get back to Midmaw, then back to Crasmere, the better.” He said, untying the horse's reins and boosting you back into his saddle.

“You need to sleep, Geralt.” You frowned, feeling him shift against you; he hadn't slept more than an hour in the four nights you'd been on the trail.

“I'm fine.” He huffed, hugging you back against him.

“No, you're not.” You sighed, turning in his arms to face him. “You're no good to either of us, dead on your feet, me bleidd.” You told him softly, stroking his hair and forehead. “I'll keep watch tonight.”

“No.” He grunted, shaking his head.

“Yes.” You chided him, frowning, the dark circles under his eyes were almost black. “Sleep, Geralt.” You whispered to him, and started humming the song your mother had, during your Passage. You watched him blink slower and slower as his lids grew heavier. “ _Sleep sweetly, my lovely. There's no need to worry, no monster will take you, as long as my arms hold you. Sleep deeply, my sweetie, I'll sing to you, as you drift to sleep, peacefully. I'll be here, in the morning, and we'll have slept so sweetly, so deeply and peacefully_..” You sang to him, stroking his face and neck, smiling as you heard him start to lightly snore; you didn't know how you knew the lyrics to the song, they just came to you naturally.

You sat up, carefully tucking the blanket around Geralt and stood, going a little distance away to gather a few more sticks of wood for the dying camp fire. The night was cold, so you pulled your cloak out of the saddlebags and wrapped it around you, sitting beside Geralt, your hand resting on his side, so he knew you were still right there next to him, not wanting him to stir and think you'd gone missing; and stared into the restless flames. Your eyes unfocused and the flames before your eyes seemed to shift, twisting into shapes and the outlines of people, fighting and dancing; the faint sound of branches breaking caught your attention, snapping out your trance. A branch snapped on the other side of you, swinging your head that way, you saw the large outline of a wolf, its yellow eyes shining in the edge of the firelight, you held its gaze, but didn't feel threatened or concerned by it, and it didn't seem bothered by you either. It moved closer, only its huge head breaking into the ring of light, the rest of its mighty body still blending into the pitch black.

“Long night for you too?” You whispered to it, lifting a brow. “I hear that.” You sighed, when it huffed at you through its nose.

Moving slowly, you carefully pulled out a bit of venison from the food ration and tossed it to the wolf. It sniffed it for a moment, then picked it up, and regarded you for a second, before slinking back off into the darkness. You smirked at it, and turned back to the fire, nothing else bothered you for the rest of the night.

“What did you sing to me, last night?” Geralt asked, splashing cold water into his face. “I haven't slept that well, in years.”

“It was a song my mother hummed to me, while I was with her, in my Passage.” You explained, folding the blanket back into the saddlebags. “Though, I'm unsure how I knew the lyrics to it.” You sighed, tossing the bags over the horse's back.

“I'll have to have you sing it to me, more often.” he smirked, kissing your cheek.

“We had a visitor last night.” You mentioned, remembering the wolf.

“Did we?” Geralt started, turning his head to look at you.

“A wolf, ironically.” You smirked, amused. “He didn't do anything, but stare, and I gave him a little bit of our meat, so he wouldn't get any ideas. It was rather peaceful, actually.”

“You do have a way with wolves.” Geralt quipped, relaxing and making you laugh.

– –

“I swear,” Geralt grunted, getting off the horse. “Midmaw only gets sadder and darker, every time I see it.” He commented, helping you down and glancing around the dreary looking village.

“I'm inclined to agree.” You chuckled, tying your hair back as the wind stirred.

You and Geralt trudged through the ankle deep mud to Emela and Ethos's house, knocking and patiently waiting for one of them to answer the door, you narrowed your eyes at several villagers that walked by, giving you strange looks.

“Yes, how can I help you?” Emela asked, opening the door. “Oh, Geralt!”

“Really?” You smirked, when she didn't recognize you. “I haven't changed that much, have I?” You asked, looking back at Geralt.

“Y/n!” Emela cried, shocked and throwing her arms around your neck, squeezing you hard against her plump body. “You're alive!” She sobbed, pulling back and cupping your face in her hands. “Your hair!” She exclaimed, pulling it loose and looking at it. “It's so white!”

“Yeah, she looks her age!” Ethos said, appearing behind his wife.

“Oh, fuck off, you old coot!” You roared, grinning at him.

“Looks like _you're_ the old coot!” He howled back, slapping his thigh.

“Why am I friends with you!?” You chuckled, shaking your head at him.

“We're not friends!” Ethos barked, sternly at you.

“You've been hanging out with him too much!” You huffed at Geralt.

“He has not!” Ethos defended himself. “You're not my friend, because you're my family.” He said, hugging you, tenderly.

“Is that why you keep telling Jaskier, he's not a friend?” You asked Geralt.

“Don't you dare, give my secret away!” Geralt scolded you.

“You're like each others spirit animal.”

“Old, grumps?” Emela laughed, filling mugs with ale.

“So, Geralt's what Ethos would have been, if he became a Witcher, and Ethos is what Geralt would have been, if he became an Alderman.” You smirked, nudging Geralt playfully as you sat down beside each other.

“This is what happens, when you don't keep a rein on your wife, Geralt.” Ethos said, taking his mug and leaning against the table. “Don't marry her, or you'll be cursed for life!”

“Well,” You blushed, resting your hand on the table, for Emela and Ethos to see the Black Opal wedding ring Geralt gave you. “It's a bit late for that.” You snorted.

“It is.” Geralt nodded, showing them the signet.

“Oh my!” Emela gasped, crying all over again.

“You fly off, to a mythical Dragon land, which I'm guessing isn't so mythical, if you're still alive.” Ethos said, gently touching your ring. “and end up tying the knot.” He looked at Geralt. “I told you, to _save_ her life, not marry her.” He teased him.

“I married her, _to_ save her.” He said, resting his hand on your leg.

“What is the gem in your ring, Geralt?” Emela asked, turning her head at it.

“It's one of my Onyx Dragon scales.” You explained, smiling softly at Geralt.

“You ripped one of them out!” Ethos choked on his ale.

“No!” You huffed at him, rolling your eyes. “It was magically removed by my Grandfather. It'll grow back.”

“So, how did your Grandfather save you?” Emela asked, getting down to business.

“Well, he didn't, exactly.” You sighed, rubbing your face. “Geralt did.”

“How?” Ethos inquired.

“So, by the time, we reached the Fjord, Y/n was almost completely dead. Her Grandmother,..”

“You met your Grandma too?” Emela smiled at you, her eyes alight.

“I did.” You smiled back, fondly.

“Zoe, that's her Grandmother's name. She had to put y/n into a sleep, while we waited for Orzac to come back from dealing with something.” Geralt continued, squeezing your knee. “When he finally did show, he gave me four options. Allow her to die, which wasn't going to happen. Removed her human heart, and she'd permanently become a Dragon, or remove her Dragon heart and she'd be just a normal Sorceress, not longer a Dragon.” He explained to them.

“And, the fourth?” Ethos asked, drawn in.

“There's a Ritual, that the Dragarians have,” He said, glancing at you. “It's called the Passage of the Sacred. They do a certain procedure, that entails wrapping the person up in a special cloth and submerging them into a peculiar pool of water.”

“You, essentially, go on a journey into a between realm of life and death.” You explained to them. “I saw my birth parents there.” You elaborated. “and Eren.” You whispered, you hadn't told Geralt about seeing your first husband.

“How did you get out?” Ethos asked, blinking between the two of you.

“That was part of why I married her.” Geralt admitted. “She needed a reason to return to life, and not stay in that nether realm. I became her reason as her soulmate, and even more so, as her husband. I went on that journey with her, as sorts, while still being alive.”

“I sensed and saw you a lot.” You said, looking at him. “Telling me to come back, that it wasn't real, that only we were, and if I didn't come back, it be too late.”

“And you did.” Emela smiled, touched.

“I did, how could I not.” You nodded, brushing your fingers against Geralt's cheek. “We also dealt with my uncle, Orsa, and his wife, Nira.”

“How did that go?” Ethos asked, lifting his brows at you.

“We killed them.” You told him, simply, not in the mood to elaborated, and you and Geralt had agreed not to mention the fact he had a Dragon form. “But, Geralt and I are married now.”

“By, Dragon standards, at least.” Geralt added. “I don't know, if that translates into marriage back here.”

“Well, we can fix that.” Ethos chuckled. “I am the Alderman, after all.”

“That is up to y/n.” Geralt said, looking at you.

“What do you mean, _up to me_.” You chuckled, grinning at him. “You have to agree to it as well, silly Witcher.”

“I would marry you, every day, for the rest of my life.” Geralt told you, sincerely, and making Emela melt.

“I'm seriously, starting to worry about you getting soft.” You teased him, resting your shoulder against his. “But, I am in agreement with you.” You answered, taking a hold of his hand.

“Then,” He looked at Ethos. “Would you mind marrying us?”

“Absolutely not!” Ethos roared all of a sudden. “I can't allow you to marry this girl.”

“What!” You barked, eyes wide.

“Witch, what have I told you about taking me so seriously.” He grinned at you.

“Oh, for fuck sake!” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. “I'm going to dance on your grave, one day.”

“Not, if I dance on yours first.” He replied, getting up and going into his office. “Well, let's doom with poor Witcher.” He said, pulling a sheet of parchment out of his desk and picked up a quill and ink well. “This is a Marriage contract, good anywhere from the very north, to the farthest south.” He explained, setting it down on the table and dipped the quill tip into the ink. “What's your full name?” Ethos asked you.

“Y/n Onora-Dilos.” You said, keeping the surname of your adopted parents and adding the surname of your blood parents.

“And you, Witcher?” Ethos asked, out of politeness.

“Geralt Eric of Rivia.”

“Eric?” You frowned, smirking at him.

“Later.” He winked.

“All right then.” Ethos said, filling in the top two blanks of the contract.

_We, the undersigned, Y/n Onora-Dilos and Geralt Eric of Rivia, have agreed to seal our love in a marital contract and to bind ourselves to certain covenants. Let this document stand as an oath before the gods and all that we hold holy that, till death do us part: - We shall treat one another with mutual respect and give due hearing to each other requests and opinions. - If separation shall come, we shall each retain all property, both movable and immovable, which we brought into the marriage, and additionally each shall keep any presents given by the other during the duration of the marriage. - The income which each receives, each shall spend as he or she sees fit, with all costs related to the maintenance and upkeep of mutual possessions being divided equally between the parties, signed by._

You and Geralt each signed the contract below.

“As Alderman of Midmaw in the Kingdom of Kovir and Poviss, it is my fortunate, and unfort-” Emela slapped his arm, making him narrow his eyes at her. “it is my _fortunate honor_ ,” he said, eyeballing her. “to announce the both of you, husband and wife. How you figure what last name you're taking, I'll leave solely up to you.” He said, and signed his name beside yours, officiating it.

“I am more than content, simply being known as Y/n of Rivia.” You grinned, leaning into kiss Geralt.

“You're my wife, no matter what you're called.” He smiled, kissing you back.

“Will you stay?” Emela asked, looking rather hopeful. 

“We can stay for dinner.” You assured her, antsy to get back home. “But, Geralt is rather itchy for his horse, and we're both very tired.”

“Excellent!” She really perked up. “I made lamb stew!” She bubbled, scurrying off to the kitchen.

“So, what happened with you and your uncle?” Ethos asked, carefully rolling up the marriage contract and tying it, before handing it to you.

“He attacked the Fjord, we fought and killed him.”

“We, as in?”

“Geralt and I.” You said, sighing and rubbing your face.

“How?”

“A Dragon Shout.” You answered. “My Grandfather gave Geralt a Dragon Shout to tell me, he told me, it was used and—poof.”

“You're not going to tell me, are you?”

“No.” Geralt shook his head. “Somethings need to be left behind.”

“Fair enough.” Ethos nodded.

Emela served the stew and the four of you pleasantly spoke over dinner and a bit of dessert, before you and Geralt finally got ready to leave.

“Will you keep the horse?” Geralt asked, picking up the saddlebags that Emela had dutifully took care of. “We don't need him, I have Roach and y/n has Shadowmere.”

“Of course.” Ethos nodded, patting the horse's neck. “There's always good use for a strong horse, like this.”

“Will we see you again?” Emela asked, hugging you.

“Of course you will, don't be silly.” You assured her, hugging her back. “You think, you could get rid of me so easily?”

“Gods, I wish.” Ethos griped, playfully.

“I'll be back, just to get on your nerves.” You laughed, hugging him. “and thank you, for marrying Geralt and I.” You added into his ear.

“He makes you happy, which makes me happy.” Ethos whispered back.

“Are you ready, Geralt?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Ready for Jaskier to start nagging for details for more ballads and complain we didn't tell him sooner about marrying?” He asked, rolling his eyes. “Oh, yeah.” He said, sighed, but a smile danced in his eyes.

“So dramatic.” You laughed, taking his hand and with a rush of air, you and Geralt found yourselves in Rinde. “All right, where's the dear Bard live?” You asked, looking around the darkening street.

“Well, either he's made up with the Countess, or he's holed up in the tavern.” He said, taking your hand. “Let's try the tavern first, before we bother the Countess.” He led you down the paved street, feeling a bit strange, the last time he was there, it was because he, with the help of Yennefer's mind control, attacked two of the officials, and, accidentally, wished for a djinn to give him some peace, that almost ended with Jaskier dying. Now, he was here with you, looking for Jaskier, and married. How things change in such a short time.

“The Mist Lily.” You chuckled, seeing the tavern name.

“I wonder, if Chireadan still owns the place.” Geralt commented, opening the door for you.

“An acquaintance of yours?” You asked, looking back at him.

“Sorta, he's an Elf healer, and he owns the tavern with his cousin, Errdil.” He explained, sticking close to you.

“I wonder, if--”

“ _O'er glistening roofs you float, through lily-strewn rivers you dive, yet one day I will know your truths, if only I am still alive_...”

Jaskier's voice floated from across the tavern to you and Geralt, and you looked up at each other, exchanging a nod and slipping by patrons to the front of the house, where Jaskier was standing by a roaring fireplace, his foot planted on a low stool and the lute the Elf King, Filavandrel, had given him, strumming it gently along with his song. Geralt leaned down close to your ear, he hadn't noticed either of you, yet, his eyes were closed in the moving moment of the song.

“She's not taken him back.” He whispered to you.

“How do you know?” You asked, looking up at him.

“He only sings that song, when she's rejected him again.” He explained, wrapping his arm around your waist. “It's called, ' _Elusive_ ', for a reason.” He chuckled, watching Jaskier's eyes slowly open.

“It's romantic.” You said, leaning your head against Geralt's arm.

“Geralt!” Jaskier perked up, his blue eyes dancing. “Y/n, you're alive!” He exclaimed, shoving his lute behind him and pushing through to you both, throwing his arms around both of you. “I was so worried, when I hadn't received any word.”

“It was hard too, where we were.” Geralt answered, looking the Bard over. “Countess still bitter with you?” He asked, smirking.

“Sadly enough.” He nodded, his blue eyes dulling for a moment.

“Geralt doesn't consider you a friend, because he thinks of you as family.” You blurted out, you'd planned on outing Geralt over it, from the moment he admitted it, and watched Jaskier's face brighten like the sun, and Geralt's darken.

“Hm.” He grunted, pressing his lips together.

“I've always known it!” Jaskier sang, hugging Geralt hard.

“Hm.” Geralt huffed, turning and going to the bar, making both you and Jaskier laugh.

“What happened to your hair?” He asked, touching a lock of it, gently.

“A byproduct of being healed.” You explained to him.

“Well, I, for one, am relieved you are alive and healthy.” He said, hugging you again.

“I see how it is!” A shrill voice snapped beside you.

“Lara!” Jaskier squeaked, jumping back.

You looked over at a very, _very_ , angry looking woman, her hands planted on her hips. “The Countess de Stael, I'm guessing.” You addressed her, nodding politely at her.

“And, _where_ did he pick you up from?” She barked, looking at you with disgust.

“Um-” You and Jaskier gulped at the same time.

“The Bard didn't get her anywhere.” Geralt answered her, coming up behind you and resting his hand on your hip. “My _wife_ is with _me_.” he told her, meeting the Countess's expression head on.

“Oh.” She choked, licking her lips, nervously, at Geralt.

“Wife?” Jaskier chimed in. “When did that happen?”

“Ethos married us.” Geralt replied, to tired to get into details.

“Well,” the Countess cleared her throat. “my apologies and congratulations.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at her, no harm done. “Perhaps, we should stay the night, Geralt. We're both tired, and I promise not to snoop for my gifts.” You told him, tiling your head back.

“I happen to agree, so, I've already gotten us a room.” He said, looking down at you.

“Are you going to tell me, what happened?” Jaskier asked, looking at the two of you.

“In the morning, Julian.” Geralt answered, turning his body and not all that politely shoving two men out of your way, so you could go up the stairs to the room. “I'll want Roach, as well.” He tossed over his shoulder, following you up.


	20. The Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, Geralt and Jaskier return to Crasmere together, but it’s not the same as you left it.

“Hey, Roach.” You smiled, as Geralt walked the Bay out of the stable, she was housed in. “Long time, no see, Gorgeous.” You pet her nose.

“I'm surprised you managed to keep her alive.” Geralt grunted at Jaskier.

“I resent that, Geralt.” the Bard huffed, rolling his eyes at the Witcher. “I am the one that takes care of her, when you're off monster hunting.”

“You've also, almost, gotten her stolen several times over the years.” Geralt countered, lifting a brow at him.

“I resent that too!” Jaskier snapped, planting his hands on his slim hips.

“Oh, god!” You roared, throwing your head back. “Is this what Ethos and I sound like?” You asked Geralt.

“Yes.” He snapped back at you.

“Let me come with you!” Jaskier begged, for the millionth time. “There's nothing here for me.”

“But, Lara.” You chimed in, smirking at him.

“She's done away with me, for good.” The poor Bard sighed, staring down at his feet. “She's agreed to marry another.”

“Really?” You snapped, surprised. “Even after, she almost clawed my eyes out, last night, because she thought I was another of your groupies?”

“Sadly, enough.” He whimpered, biting his lip.

“Oh, my poor Bard!” You mewled at him, hugging him close.

“Don't encourage him!” Geralt growled, shaking his head at the two of you.

“At least, someone cares, Geralt!” Jaskier cried back, pouting dramatically.

“You can come with us, Jaskier.” You told him, patting his shoulder.

“No!” Geralt barked, looking at you wide eyed. “It's our time!”

“There's an inn in Crasmere, that's been _dying_ for a infamous and magical Bard, like Jaskier.” You pointed out, you'd been trapped in that conversation with Elias many a time, about the Prancing Pony needing a Bard to attract more customers. “He'll be out of our way,” You looked at Jaskier. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“And will have something to do.”

Geralt glowered at you, but his shoulders slowly slumped seeing your smiling and sweet face. “I'm starting to understand Ethos more and more, every day.” He huffed. “Fine! But, don't you dare come to the cottage, uninvited.” He pointed a finger at both of you.

“You have my word, Geralt.” Jaskier nodded, bowing playfully.

“Y/n?” Geralt said your name softly, and you saw the look in his face.

“Home, Geralt.” You smiled at him, snapping your arm out and a swirling portal appeared kicking up the water, on the wet street.

“Jaskier, take Roach.” He said, holding the reins out to him. “Go.” He huffed, jerking his head toward the portal.

Jaskier led Roach through the portal, vanishing from sight. Geralt took your hand and pulled you towards him, cupping your face with his other hand and kissed you, tenderly, on the lips. You relaxed, leaning in towards him.

“Let's go home, wife.” He whispered into your hair, turning towards the portal and stepped through with you.

“Couldn't you get us any closer?” Jaskier complained, when you and Geralt showed up.

“I brought us just outside the inn.” You pointed out, gesturing to the swinging sign. “I could have portalled us outside of town, and made you walk here, in the rain.” You chuckled, feeling the fat droplets soak through your clothing.

“No, this'll do.” Jaskier conceded, handing Geralt the reins. “Can I see what your cottage looks like?” he asked, looking between you and Geralt. “I'll be gone right after, a Bard's promise.”

“I've had that promise before, and you're still here.” Geralt snorted, leading Roach up the street towards your cottage.

You sighed, keeping up beside him. “It's going to be so amazing to be home, in our own bed again.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his free one, smiling up at him.

“I like the sound of that.” Geralt smirked back, looking down at you.

“Sound of what?” Jaskier asked, coming up closer from behind you.

“To be _home_ , in _our_ own bed.” The Witcher elaborated, smiling over his shoulder to Jaskier.

“Domestic life really suits you, Geralt.” Jaskier replied, smiling back at him.

“I'm starting to find that out.” He chuckled, that content peacefulness filling his soul again as you rounded the bend leading to the cottage.

“What's that smell?” Jaskier asked, face crunching up.

“Smoke.” Geralt replied, with a similar expression.

You stopped dead, heart roaring in your ears, you smelled it too. Your eyes grew and you took off, running up the rest of the way, slipping and sliding on the muddy path. Your heart leapt out of you with a firm jerk and your body went limp on your feet.

“Y/n!” Geralt's voice yelled from behind you, frantic.

“Oh, no!” Jaskier gasped, looking up at the bright glow.

The smoke and the bright glow, was the cottage, in a blazing glory. You panted hard, watching the place you made uniquely yours for the past fifty odd years, and all of it was burning to the wet and muddy ground. You had been a nomad for several years after leaving Aretuza, and before meeting Eren. Only staying in one place long enough to deal with the sick, or a monster, or whatever else your Sorceress powers were needed for, then moving on to the next place. You stayed in taverns, inns or an acquaintance's home, or just roughing it, which wasn't as rough as most would consider it, since you could use your Magic to make things comfortable enough. When you finally met Eren, and fell in love with him, you made his home in Kovir your own, and stayed there with him, living happily as husband and wife for almost two decades, before he got ill with something you couldn't heal, and passed away. You only lasted in that home a year, before it just grew to heavy and painful for you, and you went back to your nomadic ways, for a few more years.

It was Elias's father, that convinced you to stay in Crasmere.

_****_ ****

**_– – Flash Back – –_ **

Lanus stood wringing his hands at the foot of his wife's bed, anxious and worried, as you sat beside her, examining her and asking her quiet questions about how she was feeling. Frowning, you stood and motioned for Lanus out of the room and into the hallway, smiling softly at the young Elias, who stood, frightful, in his bedroom doorway.

“I don't need to tell you, she's gravely ill.” You said, turning your attention back to Lanus. “How long has she been like this?”

“Almost a year.” Lanus answered, the lines of his forehead deepening.

“Are there no other healers in the area?” You asked, shaking your head, it was strange for a place the size of Crasmere not to have a healer.

“Our last healer, a druid, dead of the same illness.” He explained, moving around you and ushered Elias back into his room, seeing the tears starting to fill the boy's eyes. “The next closest is almost two hundred miles away, I tried sending for him, but their alderman refused to send him, fearing the Healer would bring the illness back with him.”

You rolled your eyes at that, you knew the alderman from that next village, Wil, and it sounded just like the rude and stingy bastard. “Do you have an apothecary?” You asked, pitching the bridge of your nose. “Where did the druid live?” You asked next, when he gave you an even more crestfallen expression.

“In a shack, on the ridge, near the village.” He told you, a little more hopeful.

“Can you show me the way?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“I dare not leave my wife.” Lanus told you, but his eyes brightened. “Elias!” He called. “Please, be a good lad and take the Sorceress to Druid Max's shack.” He said, when the seven year old came back out of his room.

“Of course, Pa.” Elias nodded, looking up at you.

“That's a good lad.” Lanus smiled, patting him on the head.

“This way, miss!” He said, hurrying out of the house.

You hurried after the boy, his short legs managing to out stride your longer ones, amusing you, as you followed him through the raining streets and up a muddy hill, around a bend and upon a decently cleared and flat bit of land, with only a rather shabby _shack_. You pushed open the door of the shack, motioning for Elias to stay in the dooryard as you went into the musty, dusty and dark single room. The rats had made themselves more than at home with the Druid's absence, devouring his bed, the curtains and the remaining moldy food. You held your breath as you moved farther inside.

“ _Aine_.” You coughed, and a softly glowing orb appeared, brightening the darkest corners, and allowing you to find what little herbs he had left. “Christ.” You sighed, looking at them, also rat eaten, and nothing much different than from what you already had in your own supply, but not what you actually needed to heal Elias's mother. Sighing, you stepped out of the shack, the light orb blinking out behind you, much to Elias's awed surprise and amusement.

“Did you find what you need to heal my Ma?” He asked you, looking up at you with such hope in his young eyes.

“Not here, little one.” You said, offering him a hopeful smile. “But, don't you worry.” You told him and dropped down to his level, when his face fell. “I will find it, and save her.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, she'll be right as rain, before you know it.” You told him, ruffling his hair and making him giggle. “Why don't you run off, back home, and tell your father I'll be back as soon as I find it.” You said, standing back up.

“And if you don't come back?” He asked.

“I'll come back.” You promised him, before vanishing and making his mouth drop open, astonished.

You portalled yourself to Vizima and picked your way to the winter castle of Temeria, to find one of your fellow healers and Sorceresses, Triss Merigold. Triss was equally as versed in herbs and their healing powers as you were, and kept an expensive supply of them, thanks to King Foltest's fondness of her and her powers. The guards let you through, when told them who you were and why you were there, informing you that Triss was down in her healing chambers, tending to patients.

“Y/n!” Triss beamed as you came around the corner and into the room. “How lovely it is to see you.” She said, hugging you warmly. “How have you been?”

“Well, I'm well. Thank you.” You smiled, hugging her back.

“Is there something I can do for you?” She asked, pulling away.

“There is.” You nodded, biting your lip and looking around the several sick people in the row of beds. “I'm looking for an herb, that I can't seem to find anywhere, and knowing you and your herbs..”

“You've come looking for it here.” Triss chuckled, waving her hand at the long wall of herbs and potions. “Which is it, that you're looking for?”

“Acanthaceae.” You told her, walking along the wall and the long table pushed against it.

“What are you treating?” She frowned at you, gingerly touching bundles of dried herbs.

“Consumption.” You sighed, picking up a vial of some liquid.

“Where?” Triss asked, pausing to look a you.

“Crasmere.” You answered, putting the vial back down.

“Ah, here it is.” She said, pulling down a bundle of a dried red flower. “It'll cost you.” She smirked at you.

“Of course.” You smirked back, shaking your head. “Name it.”

“Have dinner with Foltest and I.” She said, separating some of the herb and packaging it for you.

“I don't know.” You sighed, rubbing your face. “The last time I saw Foltest, Eren was still alive.” You said, biting your lip. “I don't know, if I have the power to reminisce with him.”

“Oh, come on!” She pestered you. “It'll be good for you, you've been away from any society since he passed, he'd be disappointed in you.”

You regarded her with a tired look, but sighed, and nodded your head. “Fine.”

Triss grinned and handed you the herb, you helped her with her few patients, to pass the time before the dinner was served. You felt rather awkward as you sat down at the table beside Foltest and across from Triss, fighting a lightheadedness as your mind demanded you recall the last time you sat at this table, Eren beside you, joking with Foltest, who'd just taken the throne. Shaking your head, you pushed it away and focused on your food, only speaking up when one of them addressed you.

“So, y/n, Triss tells me that you are a traveling Healer now.” Foltest said, leaning on the table with one elbow. “Why haven't you settled down again?” He asked, regarding you. “I don't mean, marrying, I know you said, you'd never do that again, when you lost Eren. But, why not be the Sorceress of a kingdom, any would be lucky to have you.”

“You should know me better, Foltest.” You chuckled, gulping the wine from your goblet. “I don't do court or politics, all silly nonsense. I'd much rather be a Healer to people that need me most, and those are typically in smaller villages and settlements.” You explained to him. “I just want some peace and quiet, somewhere.” You added, quietly to yourself.

“I'm sure you'll find peace again, y/n.” Triss said, gracefully and skillfully relieving you of the subject. “Somewhere, with some _one_.” She smiled.

You left shortly after dinner, returning back to Crasmere with the herb you needed. You mixed the potion you needed to give Lanus's wife and carefully administered it to her. “I'll stay the week, to make sure she gets better.” You assured him, smiling softly at Elias, and making him blush, when you winked at him.

“Can't you stay longer?” Lanus asked, his brows drawing together. “We are deathly in need of a healer, especially, with your talents.”

“I don't tend to stay anywhere for long.” You told him, shaking your head.

“Please, I beg of you.” Lanus begged, grasping your hands in his. “We can not survive like this, it will be Crasmere's ruin. I will pay you! I'll even give you the Druid's shack!”

“There's nothing left of that shack.” You laughed, you didn't care about payment.

“Then, I'll have it torn down and build you the biggest house you've ever seen.” He told you, squeezing your hands, like he thought it would make you stay. “I'll do anything, anything to keep my people safe and well.” He said, his eyes glassy with desperation.

You felt for him, you had had that same feeling watching Eren die, and you had done everything for him. Sighing, you nodded your head. “Very well, then I'll stay. But, I may need to leave, time to time.” You warned him, squeezing his hands back.

“Of course!” Lanus nodded, smiling brightly, so relieved.

_****_ ****

**_– Flash Back End –_ **

And so, true to his word, Lanus did have the shack torn down and, by your direction, had the modest cottage built in its place. You started your garden, when Spring arrived, had a stable for Shadowmere built, and over the decades, as you made it more and more your own, adding things to it, like furniture, pictures, more plants for the garden, it had become your happy and peaceful place, and after that, you were able to find that some _one_ that made you feel the same. Now, minus Geralt, that happiness and peace, was burning down to the ground, right in front of your eyes.

A new surge of frantic energy consumed you, head whipping around everywhere. “Shadow!!!” You screamed, running in a circle around the burning cottage, looking for your beloved horse, that you and Geralt had left. “Nghysgod!” You yelled his name out in Elder Speech, making it around the cottage to where the stable was, bursting inside of it. “Oh no!” You cried, dropping to your knees in the bloody hay. “My dearest Shadowmere.” You panted, tears falling from your eyes and dripping off your jaw, with the wetness of being in the rain. “Why.” You sniffled, resting your hand on his still slightly warm body and wiping at the snot coming from your nose.

“Y/n!” Geralt called out again.

“Here!” You sobbed back, resting your forehead on Shadow's neck.

Geralt's body darkened the doorway of the stable, seeing you sobbing over him, his heart gave way seeing he was dead, and you utterly distraught. His eyes narrowed though, catching the flicker of something white on the stall divider, and moved towards it. It was a note, held in place with a small dagger, ripping it off, Geralt read it out loud.

“ _Give us the Dragon, or it'll be more than a burned house and a dead horse, next time_.” It was signed by the leader of the Reavers, the new one that is, Maddix, since Yennefer had killed Boholt two years before.

“They did this, because of me.” You sobbed, looking up at Geralt. “They killed my horse and burned my home to the ground, because I'm a Black Dragon, because I'm a Dragon, period.” You shook from being cold, broken and angry.

“I'm afraid so.” Geralt nodded, looking down at you, heartbroken and at a loss for what to do.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward for a moment, before getting up and going back to the yard between the house and stable, Jaskier stood just outside the stable door, and touched your arm, delicately, as you walked by him. You turned and angrily started ripping off the boards at the front of the stable, tossing them aside, carelessly, as you did. Geralt and Jaskier stood, silently as you did, reasoning you just needed an outlet for your anger. But, that wasn't the outlet you were looking for as you did it. You faced the cottage, in time for the roof to collapse, and spread your fingers out at your sides, then curved them, like claws, every muscle in your body tensing and trembling. Jaskier's mouth dropped open as the fire streamed from the cottage and into your fingertips, flowing up your fingers, into your palms and up your wrists, almost reaching your elbows, and then, turned sideways, extending a hand towards the now wide open stable. You released the stream of fire from your hands with a screaming cry only a Dragon would be capable of, it shot out in a flowing beam into the stable and hit Shadow's corpse.

“ _Lahney_!” You roared in a Dragon's voice.

“Holy Gods!” Jaskier exclaimed, mouth falling open, as Shadow suddenly shifted and stumbled up onto his hooves, very much alive, and his eyes sockets glowing, like fire.

All of the fire and energy released, you dropped to your knees, panting hard and blood flowing from your nose. Geralt knelt before you, cradling your face in his hands, concerned and frightened by what he'd just witnessed.

“What the _fuck_ was that!?” Jaskier snapped, not knowing if he was supposed to be looking at you and Geralt or the horse, you just magically resurrected.

“Dov Magic.” You panted, wiping your wet, bloody and snotty face on your sleeve.

“What what?”

“Dragon Magic.” Geralt translated. “It's the Magic Dragons use, it's more potent than Chaos Magic.”

“Because, we're older than Chaos.” You huffed, letting Geralt pull you to your feet. “Where do we find the Reavers?” You asked him, still incredibly angry.

“No.” Geralt shook his head at you. “Absolutely, not.” He knew what you were thinking, and he wasn't going to condone it.

“No?” You snapped at him. “No?” You pointed a hand at your collapsed and charred home. “You want to tell me, no, after _that_!” You barked at him, pushing him away from you. “You're the only fucking thing those bastards didn't take from me!”

“Well-” Jaskier coughed, side eyeing Shadow.

“I didn't have to resurrect Geralt!” You hissed at him, eyes glowing, and startling him more.

“Don't frighten my Bard.” Geralt warned you, resting his hand on your arm, trying to soothe you. “It's a suicide mission to go after them for this.”

“Homeless, Geralt.” You said, simply, pressing your lips together and pointed at the ruins again. “Half a century, and now, homeless!” You seethed. “Oh, and there's the bit of, ' _or it'll be more than a burned house and dead horse_ , next time.” You reminded him. “They already think the house and the horse is dead, there's only one other thing standing between them and me, _you_.” You chided him, narrowing your eyes at him.

“They won't hurt me.” Geralt growled back at you.

“Do you wish to stick around and find out?” You asked him, planting your hands on your hips. “Perhaps, Jaskier will get one hell of a ballad out of it, FOR YOUR FUNERAL!” You screamed.

“She does have a-”

“Shut up, Jaskier!” Geralt barked at him. “We're not going to look for them.” He said, looking back at you.

“ _I am_.”

“Are you forgetting our marriage agreement already?” Geralt countered.

“Oh, you fucking try and control me, Geralt, using ' _the wife obeys the husband_ ' bullshit!” You snarled at him, your upper lip twitching.

“ _We shall treat one another with mutual respect and give due hearing to each other requests and opinions_.” Geralt quoted to you, undeterred by your anger; he was just as upset and pained by the loss as you were, but he wasn't going to let that cloud him.

Your mouth snapped shut at his quotation and crossed your arms over your chest, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“If we go looking for them, that's what they want. They want us to go after them, fight them on _their_ terms. That's silly and reckless.” He told you, keeping his tone calm. “We need them to come to us, on _our_ terms.”

“And what terms are those, Geralt?” You asked him, some of your anger cooling. “We have nothing now, but, each other.”

“Each other, is all we need, my love.” He smirked at you, brushing your wet hair back out of your equally as wet face. “We've always been a formidable power together, we proved it in Midmaw and at the Fjord.” He said, softly, tender affection in his amber-gold eyes.

The last of your anger seeped out of you and your pressed your forehead to Geralt's soaked shirt and chest, knowing he was more than right. “I know, Geralt.” You sighed, wrapping your heavy arms around his torso. “My whole life was in that house.” You sniffled, turning your head towards the black and smoking skeleton of the cottage.

Geralt wrapped his arms around you, holding you close against his chest and stared at the ruins himself. “I know, me minne.” He whispered, pressing his lips to your hair. “But, our home, is also, with each other.” He said, squeezing his arms around you, like he could shelter you inside himself from the rain, and the Reavers.


	21. Trust Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your home is burned to the ground, because you’re a Dragon. How could it get any worse than that? But, it does get worse, when Jaskier is kidnapped by the Reavers.

You got a room at the inn after visiting Elias and telling him what had happened to the cottage. Naturally, he was outraged and hurt by the fire, that cottage was the last thing his father had built before he passed away. He had wanted to instantly get the Crasmere guard together to track down the criminals, but you and Geralt managed to talk him out of it. You peeled off your soaking clothes and carefully hung them by the hearth in the room, to dry, then carefully stepped into the steaming tub of water, nestling yourself between Geralt's thick thighs and resting back against him.

“Me minne.” He whispered into your ear, wrapping his arms around you. “You're not thinking of sneaking off, are you?” He smirked, nipping at the rim of your earlobe.

“You going to cock warm me, to make sure I don't, Geralt?” You giggled, nudging your ass back against his cock.

“It's either that, or tie you down.” He chuckle, his fingertips tickling the inside of your thigh.

“I rather like the sound of both.” You teased, resting your head back against his shoulder and turned your face into his neck, biting him, sharply, and making him groan. “I'm not in the mood, Witcher.” You whispered, pressing a wet kiss to the angry bite mark.

“Nor am I.” Geralt replied, his fingers still trailing higher up on your thigh.

“Then, what are those naughty fingers doing?” You asked, your skin like a live wire under his touch.

“I don't know.” He answered, sounding confused by it himself. “Seems they've become possessed, a mind of their own.” He panted heavily in you ear. “I can't stop them.”

The smirk was clear in his voice, and you could feel it, as your temple rested against his cheek. You gasped, back straightening against him as his fingers finally found your pussy. He slowly moved his fingertips up and down your folds, feeling the growing slickness between them, even in the water. You bit your lip, making small whimpers and moans as he teased the inside rim of your core and the nub of your clit.

“What's wrong?” He said, breathy, in your ear. “Afraid the whole inn will hear you crying out my name?” He teased you, slipping his finger slowly into you. “The whole town, even. I doubt these windows are as strong as the ones in the Fjord.” He shifted his legs, draping them over yours, to pin your legs down to the bottom of the tub. “Explain, how you Shouted my name, and shattered the windows, while I fingered your sweet pussy.”

You took a sharp inward gasp of air, feeling him finger your spot. “Geralt.” You whined, letting the gasp of air out.

Geralt clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tutting at you and shaking his head. “So quiet, am I not pleasuring you well enough, wife?” He asked, turning his head and tugging on your ear, growling deep in his throat as he held your ear between his teeth.

“Ger-ALT!” You moaned out louder, trying to rock your hips against his finger, but he held you firmly in place.

“Oh, that's what you want, is it?” Geralt laughed, tugging hard on your ear as he drove his finger hard, and deep, into your core, ripping a gasp from your lips as your back arched and pressed your head against his shoulder. “You like being bitten. Is that why you're always fighting Bruxas?” He tormented you, slipping in a second, making you mewl with slight discomfort as his thick fingers stretching you wide open; he kissed the spot beneath your ear and behind your jaw, letting his fingers rest inside of you for a moment, as he closed his mouth on its spot, sucking hard.

“For someone not in the mood.” You panted, reaching back and tangling a hand into his loose white hair. “You are _very_ aroused.”

“I can say the same.” Geralt grunted, curving his fingers and relentlessly working them into your sweet spot, hard and fast, feeling the growing tremor of your thighs under his. “Such mixed signals.” He chuckled, feeling your core tighten around his fingers as your orgasm neared, then slipped his fingers free.”

“Geralt!” You barked, jerking back against him, frustrated.

“Oh, you wanted to come?” He asked, looking at you, confused. “But, I thought you weren't in the mood?”

“Oh, you twat.” You huffed, pouting.

Geralt grinned, untangling himself from around you and stood, his hard cock swaying heavily between his thighs. He reached down as your hand started between your legs, finishing what he so rudely stopped. You narrowed your eyes at him as his hand wrapped around your wrist, but his face was neutral. He let go of your hand and slipped his arm under your knees and the other around your waist, picking you up out of the cooling bath water, and carried you, dripping, to the bed, to lay you down. Smirking at you, he moved back and sat down in the chair across from the bed, licking his lips at you. You laughed, amusement bubbling up from your tingling belly as you understood what your Witcher was hinting at. You grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and tucked it under your head, so you could see him, his hand already wrapped around the base of his cock. You pulled your legs up, bending your knees to your chest, then letting them fall open, not leaving a spot of your body covered from Geralt's intent and enhanced eyes. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you curled your fingers into your damp and warm pussy, eyes rolling a bit as you slipped two fingers in, suppressing a primal whine when your body realized they weren't Geralt's fingers or cock, feeling even more tortured and betrayed. But, you sank your fingers deep into your core, as far as they would go. Geralt gulped watching your fingers vanish, seeing your juices glisten around them and your folds, and very slowly started working his cock, timing himself with your rhythm. The scent of your and Geralt's arousal played with your senses, the smell of Sunflowers and Chamomile merging and mixing together making a unique scent of its own; it only increased the arousal and intoxication, making you both drunk off it.

It was what you both needed, a release; mentally, emotionally and physically.

– –

“ _Geralt_.”

He jerked out of his sleep with a start, like you had screamed his name at the top of your lungs. But, you hadn't; you whispered it, ever-so-faintly, into his ear. The tone of your voice, made him instinctively reach out for you, even before his mind was fully awake, wrapping his thick and strong arms around your still naked body and hugged you close to him, cradling the back of your head, as you buried your face into his bare chest, a sob making your whole body quake. Geralt rolled onto his back, pulling you half on top of him, as he pressed his lips to your hair, listening to your sob, not holding it back. You muffled your cries in Geralt's chest, not wanting anyone else to hear, not wanting them to know how weak you felt, or that Geralt was possibly harming you; you'd seen the dubious looks on their faces as you came up to the room with him. You gasped for air, verging on hyperventilating, lashes so wet from the thick and heavy tears, they stuck together and blurred your vision. You sounded like someone who's soul was being ripped out, repeatedly.

“Ssshh.” Geralt shushed you, holding you tighter, like he was trying to hold you together. Fearing, if he let you go, you'd fall to literal pieces. “ _We'll_ get through this.” He whispered to you, feeling your tears, drool and snot make his chest damp from where you pressed your face. “I promise.” He gulped, his throat tight. He wished so much that Witchers really didn't have emotions, so listening to you, his soulmate, his wife, his better half and the one thing that kept him balanced, wouldn't feel like he was dying; each of your strangled and muffled sobs, were like a white-hot blade stabbed into his heart and soul. “When we get through this, I will build you a new home.” He mumbled into your hair. “A home just for us. It'll have whatever you want it too. A room for your patients, herbs and medicines. A huge garden, for every type of flower and herb, you'll ever want or need, then ones you don't, just in case and just because you can.” He whispered to you, rubbing his rough hands up and down your trembling back, squeezing your hips. “Maybe, even a second floor, private rooms, just for us.” He sighed, but smirked as he thought about it.

“Perhaps, even a guestroom, for Jaskier, so he can visit.”

That made you chuckle, it sounded wet and congested, but it was a laugh, none-the-less.

Geralt smiled, gently, into your hair, and felt the shaking of your body slowly lessen. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat, feeling an awkward quiver in his stomach, but pushed it aside, and started humming to you, the song Izzi had hummed. You sniffled, resting your chin on his slobbered on chest, staring at his relaxed face as he continued to hum to you, feeling your body start to melt in relaxation. Laying your head down on Geralt's chest, his humming and the slow beat of his heart, soothed you considerably, allowing you to fall back off to sleep, much more peacefully than earlier. Still humming, Geralt carefully pulled the blankets up and covered you, nuzzling your hair, softly. He eventually, even made himself fall back to sleep with the comforting song.

– –

Geralt woke to the emptiness of his arms, and sat bolt upright, his heart pounding. You lifted a brow at him, sitting at the little table in the room and sipping a cup of something steamy. Geralt relaxed, assured you hadn't snuck out while he was still asleep to seek revenge against the Reavers.

“I did promise, not to go after them, Geralt.” You commented and set your cup of tea down, knowing what his sudden panic was about.

“You did.” He nodded, sitting up at the edge of the bed. “But, I'm also use to people breaking their promise to me.” he added, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Have I ever?” You asked, studying his face.

“No.” He whispered, staring back at you.

You grunted at the soft knock on the room door, and got up, pausing long enough for Geralt to pull on his pants, before opening it. “Elias.” You regarded the Alderman.

“I have a letter for you.” He said, holding out the folded and wax sealed piece of parchment.

“That's odd.” You frowned, taking it from him and breaking the seal to read it.

“What is it?” Elias asked, watching you go pale.

“Geralt.” You choked, holding the letter back to him.

Frowning, Geralt took the paper from you and read it, his shoulders slumped as he got a cold, nauseous feeling in his stomach. “ _We're watching you. We warned you, and now, the Bard will pay for you, if you don't give up the dragon, first. - Maddix, of the Reavers_.” He huffed through his nose, lips pressed into a thin line.

“They've kidnapped Jaskier.”

“Do you want to go after them, _now_?” You asked, lifting your brows at him, just as sick to your stomach as Geralt.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded, ignoring the tone of your voice.

“Is there anything I can do, to help?” Elias asked, looking between you and Geralt.

“No.” You shook your head, deeply troubled and concerned. “There's been enough people twisted up in this mess, I don't need you getting kidnapped, killed or harmed in anyway, either.”

“Let alone the rest of Crasmere.” Geralt added, echoing your concerns.

“Well, if that's to change, you know where to find me.” He said, squeezing your arm comfortingly and nodding his head at Geralt, before excusing himself.

“Where do we find them?” You asked, closing the door.

“I'm unsure.” Geralt sighed, rereading the note. “Reavers have several hideouts all over Redania, and each new leader of the group, tends to switch their main base of operations.”

“Where did Boholt have them working out of?”

“Crinfrid.” He replied, remembering what he heard of them and the boasting Boholt had done during the race to Borch's Dragon egg.

“So, why don't we start there?” You suggested, running a hand through your hair, your skin crawling to get going and get Jaskier back, safe and sound. “There's bound to be Reavers there that were still loyal to Boholt, and possibly not so excited that this Maddix took the spot.”

“It's a decent start.” Geralt agreed, pulling his shirt on and pulling his hair back in its normal style. “Let's saddle up Roach and Shadow, and head that way, we might hear some talk of them on the way. It's hard for people to miss a loud mouth, brightly dressed person, like Jaskier.” He chuckled, trying to ease away the anxiety of the situation, in all his years traveling with the Bard, he'd never been in such dangerous trouble, as he was now.

You packed what little you had in Shadow's saddlebags, which was another change of clothes, the herbs you'd been traveling with, in Geralt's bags, your Dragirium sword, Orzac pendant and Geralt's Wolf Medallion, other than that, the only other possession you had was your Black Opal wedding ring. Everything else had been destroyed in the fire. Staring at the blackened and soaked bones of the cottage, you turned Shadow and left it behind, Geralt quietly riding Roach beside you, as you both headed out of Crasmere, in the direction of Crinfrid. You stopped at every inn and tavern between Crasmere and Crinfrid, asking after the Reavers and Jaskier, but got little to no information on either, people were too afraid to get involved with anything that the Reavers had a hand in, not wanting to deal with their wrath.

“There has to be someone, that's not a chicken shit.” You snapped, after coming out of an inn in Hibeth, a small town between Crinfrid and Vartburg. “There just has to be.” You added, in a quieter, more desperate tone.

“I'm sure there is.” Geralt answered, resting his hand on the small of your back, Hibeth wasn't the friendliest place in the Continent. “Let's just ride to Crinfrid, there's bound to be more people there that know about the Reavers, and aren't afraid of them, unlike every where else.” He said, boosting you into Shadow's saddle and pulling himself into Roach's.

– –

Crinfrid definitely looked like a place Reavers would call home. It was a dump, dark, dingy and riddled with crime of every shape and kind. You stuck close to Geralt as you stepped inside the Bloody Rose tavern and made your way to the bar, you could feel every pair of eyes in the over crowded space stabbing you and Geralt in every vulnerable spot. Geralt drew himself up and his body tensed, making his already huge size even more defined, like a wall of breathing flesh and bone, as he glared at the barkeep.

“I'm looking for Maddix.” He told the barkeeper, not mincing words.

“Oh yeah, why's that?” He asked, narrowing his muddy brown eyes at Geralt. “ _Witcher_.” He spat, mouth puckering with disgust.

“That's my business.” Geralt growled, snarling at him.

“Then, that's your problem, _Mutant_.” He hissed back.

Huffing, you turned around to face the barkeeper and reached across the bar top, grabbing the man by his sullied apron and tunic, twisting them around your fist and jerked him closer to you, forcing him to stand on the tip toe of his ratty leather boots as he bent over the sticky and filthy counter. You brought your face so close to his, that the tip of your noses brushed, and let your liquid silver eyes glow and change into their Dragon shape, spooking the cockiness out of him.

“Answer his question,” You sneered at him. “ _Before_ , I bite your nasty little head off.” Your impatience and malicious tone was so thick, you could practically wrap your hand around it.

“The Reavers don't hold operations here anymore, since Boholt was killed.” the Barkeeper gulped, beads of sweat breaking out over his grimy forehead. “After Maddix took over, they moved their operations to Agos.”

“That wasn't so fucking hard, was it?” You barked, shoving him into the line of beer kegs behind the bar. “Any of you have an issue?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at the room, the entire tavern had stopped to stare at you, but seeing your eyes and feeling the frustrated anger rolling off of you, they all, slowly, returned to their pints and conversations.

“I knew, there was a reason why I loved you.” Geralt snorted, as you saddled back up. “Such a rage Nugget.”

“Fuck off, _Puppy_.” You snapped, playfully at him, rolling your eyes.

The journey to Agos took almost a day, and when you finally did make it there, there wasn't much to the settlement. A tavern and an inn, with the Alderman's house, positioned not far from the edge of a dizzying drop off of a cliff, into the Braa river. It was quickly obvious that the Alderman's house wasn't inhabited by an alderman, but the leader of the Reavers, Maddix. The place was a ghost town, populated only by the Reavers themselves. You and Geralt dismounted the horses at the tavern, tying their reins to the hitching post. A man with strange tattoos stepped out onto the porch of the inn, crossing his arms over his chest and watching you and Geralt, closely. Another man stepped out of the Alderman's house and regarded you and Geralt.

“You bring the Dragon?” He asked, lifting a brow at you both.

“Something like that.” Geralt called back, his hand instinctively moving to the small of your back.

“Maddix is this way.” He said, stepping off the porch of the alderman's and going around the back.

Three Reavers appeared behind you and Geralt, roughly shoving you both forward. Geralt caught you before you lost your footing and growled back at the three thugs, but they seemed unphased by it. Following after the man, to the back of the house, you spotted another Reaver holding Jaskier by the scruff of the neck at the edge of the very steep cliff. The Bard's eyes went the size of serving plates, when he spotted you and Geralt, flanked by Reavers.

“Don't tell them anything!” Jaskier barked at you, and was rewarded with a sharp punch to the gut.

“Leave the Bard alone!” Geralt snapped at the thug holding Jaskier, and received his own gut punch, which only made his stomach muscles clench, and him growl at the puncher.

As Geralt and Jaskier struggled with the Reavers, your eyes were glued to the face of a young man, leaning against the back of the house, arms crossed over his chest. He had jet black hair, emerald green eyes and a slender, but strong, body type.

“Maddix, I presume.” You said, lifting a brow at him as he looked you over.

“It is.” He smirked, and it wasn't a pleasant smirk either, it did nothing to lessen the smug and malicious look on his face. “So, which one of you is the Dragon?” He asked, pushing off the house and circling the both of you. “It can't be you.” He said, stopping in front of Geralt. “I know, _who_ you are, Butcher of Blaviken.” He snorted, amused by Geralt's growing anger. “So, it has to be _you_.” His eyes settled back onto you. “Pretty little thing, aren't you?”

“I'm old enough to be your, _many_ times, _great_ -grandmother.” You sassed him, unmoved by his arrogance. “But yet, there I was, afraid you wouldn't realize which way the wind was blowing, if you pissed straight into it.” You added in deadpan, making both Geralt and Jaskier snort; even one of the Reavers holding onto Geralt chuckled under his breath.

Maddix's hand shot out, striking you across the face with surprising force; it took all three of the Reavers to keep a firm hold on Geralt as he lunged at Maddix. “Can't keep your woman in line, Witcher?” He taunted Geralt, turning his attention to him, as you held the back of your hand to your bloody lip and nose. “Perhaps, she needs a stronger hand, look how easily she shut up with a good wack across the face.” He said, motioning a slim fingered hand at you.

“Piss yourself.” You barked at him, spitting a wad of blood and saliva into his face.

“Oh, you are _definitely_ the Dragon, so fiery.” Maddix laughed, wiping the blood off his face. 

“You're so damn funny.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. “Now, what the fuck, do you want from me?” You asked, getting impatient with him.

“I've been told, you are an extremely rare _Black_ Dragon.” He replied, eyes scanning your body.

“It's possible, pig.” You answered, your eyes and face neutral and guarded. “What's it to you?”

“You see,” Maddix sniffed, narrowing his eyes at you. “Right now, I'm only the de facto leader of the Reavers, I can't assume the full and concrete role, until I prove myself to the rest of the Reavers, and the King.” He explained, folding his arms across his chest. “To do that, I need to either bring the King an alive Dragon, or a _dead_ Dragon, and what better way to really prove myself to them, then, to bring them the _only_ Black Dragon in the Continent.”

You lifted a brow at him, admittedly, you were rather impressed with his thinking. “How did you find out about me?” You asked him.

“I was given a tip, someone sent a note after me, telling me about a Dragon in disguise, living in a cottage in Crasmere. I divined the rest.” He explained. 

“What's the King going to do with a living Dragon?” Geralt growled at him.

“Keep it as a pet, a deterrent for other kingdoms trying to encroach on his land, hunt it for sport.” Maddix shrugged his shoulders at the Witcher. “I don't much care what he does with her, as long as I am seen as the new leader of the Reavers.”

“Well, sorry to bust your bubble, which I'm not actually sorry about.” You snorted, shaking your head at him. “I'm not going to be someone meal ticket to leadership.” You told him, folding your arms.

“Oh, I'm sure, I could persuade you.” He smirked at you, pompously.

“I doubt it.” You remarked, meeting his eyes head on, but felt your stomach clench.

“Take the Witcher to the Bard.” Maddix said, motioning to edge of the cliff with his head. “I'm sure, you wouldn't want them to _accidentally_ slip off the edge.” He told you, shaking his head at you. “It's not like either of them can fly, unlike you.”

“Go for it, still not surrendering myself.” You shrugged your shoulders at him, acting indifferent about it, even though you stomach was twisting into knots.

“Have you lost your marbles!” Jaskier barked, exasperated with you. “You can't just let them toss us off a fucking cliff!” He protested and looked to Geralt. “Geralt, talk some sense into her!”

“I knew, you cared more about yourself, than us.” Geralt said, quietly, looking you in the eyes.

“Sorry, Geralt. I never meant to string you along for so long.” You replied, sighing, but shrugged again. “If you think, shoving them off the cliff is going to change my mind, you're stupider than you look.” You said, looking back to Maddix. “Not quite as stupid as the Witcher or the Bard, though.”

Maddix narrowed his eyes at you, smelling a lie. “Toss them!” He barked to the Reavers and you just stood there, eyes still on Maddix, as the Reavers wrestled Geralt and Jaskier to the edge and shoved them off. “You really don't care?” He said, seeing you not even flinch, and was completely taken aback by it.

“No.” You shook your head. “They're mortals. Such fleeting lives, soft and vulnerable. So easily hurt and strung along, from emotions to their bodies. Weaklings. What does a Dragon, like me, care, when it comes to mortals, like them?” You asked him, tilting your head at him. “Everything!” You snapped, before lunging at him.

You grabbed Maddix by the shirt and yanked his upper body down as your leg moved upwards, your knee driving into his stomach with such force, he went sailing backwards. The four Reavers that had dealt with Geralt and Jaskier started advancing on you, which made you smirk, eyes glowing and changing as you shifted into Dragon form, startling them. Opening your maw, you let out a blast of flame on them, roasting them like meat on a spit. You grunted, feeling a sharp pain in your hind leg and turned your head to see another Reaver attempting to find a weak spot between your scales, huffing you flicked your tail at him and sent him flying over the edge of the cliff, screaming the whole way down. Those Reavers dealt with, you turned your attention back to Maddix, who was trying to scurry away from the scene. Taking flight, you easily over took him, landing and trapping him under your front leg.

 _“Tell your people, whoever they fucking are, to leave me alone, for good, that counts for Geralt, the Bard and anyone else I care about. Or, I will kill each and every one of you, slowly and painfully_.” You told him, bringing your mighty head closer to his puny one. “ _Do I make myself clear?_ ” You growled, blowing a searing hot breath over his face.

“Yeah, yeah!” He nodded, shitting himself.

“ _Good_.” You hissed, picking up one of your claws and slowly pushing it through the spot on his shoulder. “ _Just a reminder, not to fuck with me, my Witcher or my Bard, again_.” You told him, moving off of him. “ _Flee!_ ” You roared at full volume, popping his eardrums.

Not needing another hint, Maddix scrambled up, pressing a shaking hand to his wounded shoulder, blood trickling out of his ears and ran off, not bothering to look back.

As Geralt and Jaskier plummeted down the cliff face, Geralt quickly got a handle on himself, muttering the spell he needed to and changed into his Blue Dragon form, tucking his wings in against his body to stretch himself out, gaining speed to catch Jaskier, carefully in his front foot, then rolled onto his back, looking up in time to see the stream of your fire reach over the edge, assuring him that you were holding your own up there, before crashing into the river below, cushioning Jaskier from the impact, with his own body.

You landed down on the river bank, just as Jaskier and Geralt, back in Witcher form, dragged themselves out of the river, coughing up water and shivering. “Are you all right?” You asked, looking between them.

“What the fuck was that, Geralt!?” Jaskier demanded, his mind trying to explain what he'd just seen his long time friend turn into.

“You got the _hint_ , right?” You asked, looking at Geralt, alarmed.

“I got it, it's why we're both still alive.” Geralt replied, panting and pushing his wet hair out of his face.

“You two _planned_ that?”

“Sorta.” You blushed, feeling bad for him. “I was hoping Geralt would get my hint to jump off with you and just catching you before, you know, you..”

“DIED!” Jaskier yelled, his voice breaking with the pitch.

“Exactly!” You replied, grinning. “and you're not! So, it worked!”

Jaskier's mouth worked at you for several moments, before he turned to Geralt. “Since _when_ did you become a bloody Dragon!” He demanded of the Witcher.

“It's a byproduct of y/n and I marrying.” Geralt replied, looking at Jaskier. “and I better not hear _any_ mention of it, in _any_ of your songs, ballads, poems or ramblings! We don't need it getting out, that I'm not only a Witcher, but capable of turning into a Dragon, as well. I can barely go anywhere, without people wanting to run me out of town and giving me shit.” He warned Jaskier, narrowing his eyes.

“Seriously, Jaskier.” You chimed in, when he opened his mouth to say something else.

“Fine!” He huffed, pouting slightly at the loss of material for his songs.

“Are you all right?” Geralt asked you, once all three of you were back on top of the cliff, pausing to enter the deserted tavern.

“I'm fine.” You answered, helping yourself to a mug of ale behind the bar. “I told Maddix, to tell whoever keeps bothering us to stop, or I'd slowly kill every last one of them.”

“Do you think, they'll listen to you?” Jaskier asked, sitting down.

“If they know what's good for them.” You mumbled around the rim of your mug.

Geralt stared at you across the bar top, he was concerned.


	22. Dilos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Losing your home, almost losing Geralt and Jaskier and dealing with Maddix, has thrown your life out of balance. You struggle with the darkness that’s wanted to consume you; as everything seems to be going wrong, and trying to hold onto all that is good in your life. But, you get a surprising and unexpected lifeline, that reminds you of who you are, what you are capable of and how lucky your life really is.

Your eyes shot open, taking several moments to focus as your frightened and alarmed brain scattered to all corners of your mind; the nightmare still so real. You relaxed once your eyes focused and you remembered where you were, Geralt sound asleep beside you, his hand resting on your stomach. Rubbing at your throbbing temples, you carefully got out of bed, not wishing to disturb Geralt, just because you couldn't sleep.

The tent was spacious and warm, thanks to your Magic, you sat down at the little table against one of the canvas walls, pouring a pitcher of water into a bowl and splash some of it in your face, but it didn't do anything to help. Sighing, you got up and slipped on Geralt's shirt, your leggings and threw your cloak over your shoulders, pulling the deep hood over your head and face, before quietly stepping out of the tent, and into the falling rain. Glancing at the tent Jaskier was sleeping in, you could hear the Bard snoring, and chuckled; even his snoring had a flow and musical rhythm to it. You walked, barefoot, through the wet grass and moss, sending teeny, shooting threads of cold through the bottoms of your feet and up your calves. You pulled the hood of your cloak off your head and tilted your head back, letting the fat raindrops fall into your face, eyes closed. The cold felt good on your tired skin, soaking your hair and face in a matter of moments, opening your eyes again, you continued on your little stroll, thoughts deep and far away from your actual surroundings.

“Do you know, what _Dilos_ means?” A voice asked, startling you back to reality. “It's Dragarian, for _Deadly_ , _Lethal_ , or _Causing Death_.”

“Who are you?” You growled, turning to the figure, a man, leaning against the tree next to you.

“Who do you think?” He replied, flashing a perfect set of white teeth at you.

You growled again, letting out a hard breath, in a misty cloud, and narrowed your eyes at him. “I'm far to fucking exhausted for riddles, by randoms in the forest.” You hissed, and kept walking.

“Calling me a random in a forest, while you walk through, said rainy forest, in the middle of the night.” He answered, running his eyes over your cloaked body.

Stopping again, you looked at him over your shoulder, narrowing your eyes at him again. “It matters to you, why?”

“Because, you are so related to Oara,” He grinned, eyes shining in the lightning strike. “She loved frolicking in the rain. Said, it helped her feel better and brought her closer to Mother Earth.” He rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed on his face. “There's something about Dragons and stormy weather, as well. There's always more of them out, when the weather has turned for the worse; heavy rain, loads of wind, lightning and booming thunder. The shush of gliding through snow clouds. The pattering of hailstones on Dragon scales, is like strange music.”

“Again,” You huffed, impatiently. “ _Who_ the hell are _you_?” You demanded, folding your arm under your cloak.

The man pushed off the trunk of the tree, producing his arm from inside his own cloak and yanked up the sleeve of his shirt, showing you a shimmering, black and gold mark on his forearm, just below his elbow. “That's right.” He nodded, as you lifted your hand, touching the shimmering purple mark behind your ear. “The same. Does that answer your question?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“You're a Dragon.” You said softly, moving closer to him and touching the warm mark on his chilled skin.

“Not just any dragon, either.” He smirked, and touched the Dragon Mark behind your ear.

You gasped, hand gripping his forearm, as a pain bloomed in your body, like the blast of a Dragon's breath. There was a flash in your mind's eye, of a Black Dragon with Gold fiery breath, and only one word came to your mind, a name. “ _Dilos_.”

“The same.” He grinned at you, drawing his hand back. “It is a pleasure to meet you, _great_ grandchild.”

“But, you're supposed to be dead.” You frowned at him.

“According to whom?” Dilos asked, frowning back at you.

You blinked, several times, confused. “Everyone.” You squeaked out, gulping.

Dilos laughed, shaking his head at you. “Dear, Child.” He touched your cheek, raising goose-bumps on your wet and chilled skin. “I didn't die.” He told you, his voice gentle. “I ascended beyond the need of a body, Dragon or Human. Though, what was once my body, is still in the Obsidian Fjord. What do you think makes those pools so special, it is the power and magic, still contained in my body. I created the Dragon Menders, imbued them with my power, showed them the ways they use, then used my body to power the pools.”

“So, you left a piece of yourself behind, and ascended, into a spiritual form.” You summed up.

“Exactly.” He nodded. “It's much easier to look over your people, this way.” He told you, stroking your cheek. “A body can get in the way of so many things. But, this away, I had the fortune of watching over your grandfather, your father, and you.”

“You watched my parents die.” You stated, more than asked. “You watched my uncle become corrupt. My cousin go mad.”

“Sadly, I did.” He sighed, a frown creasing his brow.

“Could you have stopped it?” You asked him, your own brow creased. “Could you have saved them? Not just my parents, but, all in the Dragary.”

His Gold eyes rested on your Silver ones, sadness deepening in them, with a growing regret. “I could have, yes.” He whispered, licking his lips.

“Why didn't you?” You growled at him, bottom lip stiffening in a scowl.

“I saved, who they asked me to save.” He replied, touching his fingertips under your chin. “You are their legacy. You are the legacy of our people, the Princess of the Dragary and all Dragons. You are my reincarnation. I live on through my ascension, and through you.”

“Then, why are you here? How are you here, for that matter? You have no body?” You questioned him, angered that he didn't save your parents.

“While, I need no body, doesn't mean, I don't have one, or lack the power to conjure one, when I need it. You don't ascend to Godhood and not unlock the power to do so.” He laughed, it was deep and rich, a sound only people that live easy and happily possess. “As to why I am here, I grew concerned for you.”

“Concerned for me?” You snorted, shaking your head and walked away from him. “I've lived for over a hundred years, and have endured so many things that should have either broken or killed me, and now that my life is actually coming together and making sense, you show up and are worried about me.” You looked back at him. “That's rich.”

“I was always with you, in those moments.” He replied, regarding you calmly.

“Did you ever help?”

“Not really, no.” He chuckled. “I rarely needed too. You are incredibly capable, on your own. But, I did give you a nudge, every now and then.”

“Such as?”

“Your conduit moment.” He said, leaning his shoulder against the tree again. “I nudged that monster in your direction, knowing you were ready to fully unlock your Magic.”

“My best friend almost got killed!” You growled, eyes huge with shock and anger.

“But, he lived, and you opened the door to your potential. Look, what you've done with it. How many lives have you saved with your Magics, strength, intelligence and cunning. I, also, nudged you in Midmaw's direction. I knew your cousin, Dasa, was there; wreaking havoc. Those humans would have stood no chance against him, even with his failed transformation to a human form, he would have decimated all of them. Only another Dragon would have been able to defeat him. So, I planted the idea of you in Tankred's head, to call upon you to do it. In doing so, you would also discover your true identity, _Onora_.”

“That's my adoptive parents' name.” You huffed at him, agitated and conflicted.

“No, Mal Dovah.”

“I'm not a _Little Dragon_.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“To me, you are.” He grinned, sweetly. “Onora, is the name your real parents gave you, before you were taken to safety, and they died.”

“What?” You snapped, utterly confused. “How did my parents give me that name, and I somehow get adopted by people with it, as a surname?”

“Because, it wasn't their surname.” He told you, pressing his lips together. “Mastren was. Your parents wanted to make sure, you knew what your name was, the one they gave you. But, they also knew, that if you bore that given name, you would be much easier to find. So, it was arranged that the couple that took you, would use it as a surname. Replacing the one they once had. Luckily, the midwife-”

“Emela.” You interrupted him. “Her name, the midwife, her name is Emela.”

Dilos bowed his head, in recognition. “ _Emela_ , chose a understanding and loving couple, that agreed to that term, asking no questions to why they had to change their surname for the young babe, or why they couldn't be told about your parents.” He explained to you. “Very commendable of them.”

“Incredibly.” You agreed, a tight lump in your throat; so many people had made so many hard choices and sacrifices for you, for your survival and well-being, and you couldn't thank them for it. “Did you _nudge_ Geralt and I together?” You asked, the thought just striking you.

“No, that time, it was completely natural.”

“ _That time_?” You snapped, surprised.

“I did, _nudge_ you and Eren together.” He admitted, rubbing the side of his face. “You were lonely, and needed someone to love.”

“So, you played Match Maker!” You barked at him, hugging your cloak tighter together.

“Essentially, yes.” He nodded, unbothered by your exasperation. “You both were incredibly compatible with each other. The love you shared was amazing.”

“Then, he fucking died, of something I wouldn't cure.” Your hands shook and tears rimmed your eyes.

“I am sorry about that.” He whispered, feeling bad. “But, it also enabled you to meet Geralt.” He added, his voice more cheerful. “The love between the pair of you is astounding, awe-inspiring, and pure; real. Like, the love my parents shared.”

“Oara and Aher.” You said, softly.

“Yes.” He nodded slowly. “A love and connection like that, only happens once, in rare times. Those two planets, rarely, align so close together.”

“What planets?” You asked, frowning hard at him.

“When, my mother, Oara, and my father, Aher, died. Their souls ascended into the heavens, but not like I did.” He started to explain, then paused. “Here, allow me to show you.” He said, holding his hand out to you. “I'm not going to harm you.” He sighed, as you looked dubiously at his hand.

Narrowing your eyes, you took his hand anyway. Dilos led you a little ways away, to a clearing and looked up at the night sky. There were still heavy rain clouds passing over head, but the rain wasn't as heavy has it had been.

“Lok Vah Koor.” Dilos snapped the Shout out in a sharp voice, and the clouds vanished, taking the rain with it. “You see that gold planet?” He asked, his arm reaching up and forefinger pointing to a twinkling gold planet, brighter than the cluster of stars around it.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking at it.

“And, that one.” His arm moved, pointing to a bright white dot, another planet. “They are Aher and Oara; he's the Gold one, and she's the White one. They are supposed to align every hundred or so years. They were aligned, when you were born, and for some reason, four years later, they aligned again.”

“When Geralt was born.” You said, quietly, staring at the two twinkling dots, they were fairly close together now.

“They aligned again a year ago.” Dilos added, looking down at you.

You looked up at him, surprised. “When Geralt and I first encountered each other.”

“Yes.” He grinned at you, brightly. “Star crossed lovers.”

“You never answered my question.” You said, turning your body towards him.

“Which was that?” He asked, looking innocent.

“ _Why_ are you here?” You repeated your earlier question. “If everything is going so well, and you only, _now and then_ , intervene in my life. Why are you here? What's making you _concerned_ about me? Plus, I've never seen you in the moments, I know you stuck your hands into. But, here you are now, more or less. Showing yourself to me, in the middle of nowhere, in a rain storm; and the first words you say to me, _great-grandfather_ , is telling me, what your name means.”

“That's a lot of question.” He chuckled at you, amused. “And, I'll answer all of them.” He moved his hand out in a semi-circle from his body, the air beneath his palm shimmered and a doorway opened, not a portal, but a literal door in the middle of the clearing. “Come, I'll explain all of it to you, and I know you'll have even more questions about it.”

You looked back towards camp, just making out the outline of your and Geralt's tent.

“Worry not.” Dilos assured you. “My realm functions differently than this place does. What seems days in my realm, is only a matter of minutes to here. They won't wake, by the time, you come back.” He said, opening the door and holding it for you.

Biting your lip, still conflicted about going, without telling Geralt, or at least, leaving him a clue to where you've gone. You were actually surprised, he hadn't woken by now and came looking for you. Ordinarily, you couldn't wake and get out of bed, without Geralt waking up a few minutes later, sensing you were no longer beside him. But, Dilos was right, there were so many questions you had, that only he could give you. Geralt would understand that, if he realized you had gone. So, you turned back and stepped through the doorway, entering a warm and pleasant kitchen. The floor was red brick, as was the massive fireplace, a fire raging inside it. The walls were off-white plaster and dark wood. The smell of freshly baked bread met your nose ad you saw it, cooling on a tall and long wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Dilos approached a larder, removing a tall, clay fired, pitcher and a mug, the handle shaped like a Dragon, and set it down on the wooden table, in front of a tall stool and poured the contents of the pitcher into it.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” He said, setting the pitcher down and sitting down across from it.

“Thank you.” You said, moving to the stool and sat down, picking up the mug and took a sip, finding it was Honey Mead, your favorite drink. “How?” You frowned, looking inside your mug, then in the pitcher, finding it was filled with water. Blinking, you picked it up and poured some in your mug, but, only mead flowed out.

“Magic, y/n.” Dilos chuckled, watching your awed wonder. “It will pour whatever you wish it too.” He explained to you, taking a goblet and the pitcher, pouring a drink for himself. “See.” He passed his goblet towards you, and you took a sip, finding, it was wine.

“That's incredible.” You laughed, impressed.

“Magic is marvelous and rather useful, if you do it right.” He agreed. “You can help yourself to the bread as well.” He said, motioning to it. “But, to start answering your questions. I came to you, because I was concerned for you. I never showed myself to you before, because I felt, there was no need for it, and I didn't wish to interrupt your life. Your parents wanted you to have a normal and safe life, I respected that much; you were happy and healthy, what more could parents and a great-grandfather ask for?” He said, looking upon you fondly.

You could feel the genuine love Dilos had for you, his face and eyes gave it all away, so did the vibe of his body. You took the moment to really look at him, his eyes were Gold, but not like Geralt's amber-gold, Dilos's were a buttery-gold. His raven-black hair was long, just barely touching his broad shoulders, a single long braid of it came down, so the metal bead at the end rested against his collarbone. He looked young, no more than his thirties, a strong body, muscular and well proportioned. He was rather handsome, he reminded you of your father.

“Nothing, I suppose.” You finally answered him. “What is the braid and bead for?” You asked, motioning to it, you had noticed both your Grandfather and Grandmother had similar ones.

“Precisely.” Dilos replied, with a short nod. “The braid is a representation of our heritage and royal position, the bead bears our family crest.” He explained, then got up, disappearing for a moment, before coming back and handing you a small metal bead, with the same carving on it. “My concern,” He sighed, sitting back down and his face falling from its usually happy, go lucky expression, to one of deep worry and concern, it made him look considerably older. “Dragons are easily corrupted.” He said, looking at you straight.

“Your concern is, that I'm being corrupted?” You snorted at him, slipping the bead in your pocket and shaking your head, taking a gulp of your mead. “That's rich. Being, I've had to kill three of our corrupted relatives in the last several months.” You said, setting your mug back down and looking him in the eyes. “Including, several of their followers, and a pair of fucking Reavers.” You laughed, your body shaking with the amusement. “What the fuck makes you think something is corrupting me?”

“Yet?” He lifted a brow at you, his expression completely serious. “Nothing. You could be all your father's child and live up to your name, or you could live up to what I once was.” He told you, honestly.

“Which is?”

“Onora means _Honor_.” Dilos sighed, rubbing the side of his face. “Your father was an incredibly honorable man, as your mother was a rather honorable woman. They had, and were, tempted by dozens of chances to be corrupt and raise their lives tenfold, even as King and Queen of their own kingdom. But, they never took it, content on what they had.”

“A lot of good that did them.” You huffed, rolling your eyes and staring down into your mug.

“It got them, _you_.” He said, sounding insulted by your comment. “But, when I was a young whelp, I allowed the glamours of my power as a Dragon to blind me. I became exceedingly corrupted against my kind, and all kinds.”

“You're afraid, that I'll take more after you, than I will take after my parents, now that I know the full extent of my powers?” You sighed, looking at him, lifting a brow.

“Yes.” Dilos nodded, refilling his goblet. “Tell me, when you were standing by the cliff's edge, and told Maddix to throw your best friend _and_ your husband off, was there a voice inside of your head, that really did believe you didn't care about it, if they were thrown off and died?”

“Geralt can turn into a Dragon, he wouldn't have died and wouldn't have let Jaskier, either.” You snapped, offended.

“That wasn't my question.” Dilos smirked at you. “Did you have that part of your brain, that honestly didn't care, whether or not, they lived or died? Whether or not, Geralt could shift and save both himself and the Bard?”

You stared at him, your face frozen in anger and his audacity to accuse you of not caring whether or not Geralt and Jaskier died. Of fucking course, you cared whether they died! Geralt was your husband, for fuck sake, the love of your life, you had never clicked or loved anyone more than you loved him. You cared about Jaskier too, he was a good friend and a good Bard, you would hate, if anything ever happened to him; you had worried endlessly about him, while you and Geralt tracked the Reavers down to get him back. But, the look at on Dilos's face gave away the look in your eyes. You did have that quick, and deep in the darkness, feeling of not caring if they made it, you just wanted to fucking kill Maddix and his men, for daring to touch and disrespect what was yours, your home, the people you loved and the things you held dear to you, and if Geralt and Jaskier died in the process, then, it only galvanized your hell bent obsession to kill them all the more.

“Fuck.” You huffed, draining your mead and pouring more.

Dilos chuckled and shook his head. “It's all right, y/n. You are only mortal. We all have those feelings and thoughts, whether or not, we admit them or keep them to ourselves. At least, you can identify it.” He said, running a hand through his hair. “Just don't let it consume you, like I did.”

“What was your defining moment, knowing it was too late and you had given into it.” You asked him, breaking off a piece of bread.

“I betrayed someone dear to me.” He answered, frowning and running the tip of his finger around the rim of his wine goblet.

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “Who?”

“My wife, Veera.” Dilos sighed, saddened and the old wound throbbing. “I didn't protect her, and Veera died for it. I cared more about amassing more power and gold, than I did about my family. So, that's what I did, I let her die, then drowned that agony in even more corruption, blaming everyone, but myself, for it.”

“But, obviously, you came out of it.” You said, motioning to him. “I mean, damn! You ascended into a God!” You laughed at him.

“At the cost of many things along the way, child.” He smiled, snorting. “The life, I made after her death echoed through the ages. My own son renounced me, my own people deserted me. I walked and flew about these lands wrecking havoc, stealing all that I wanted, amassing a following of some of the most dastardly people in the Continent; Human, Dragon and Monster alike.” Dilos explained, losing the smile on his face. “Then, I realized one day, that none of the killing and sacking was filling that empty hole in my chest. No amount of gold, power or anything could fill it.” He looked at you, with a life-long sadness. “So, I returned home, back to the Obsidian Fjord, to my son, Orzac. He had married Zoe by then, had Orsa and Ronar. Your father was just the wee whelp, back then, I doubt, he remembered me then. I made some amends to them and bestowed the title and power of King to Orzac, he had proved himself the capable leader to our people, I was, and was not. I spent decades proving myself better than I had been.”

“How did you ascend?” You frowned, drawn in.

“I sacraficed myself, for the good of our people.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “The Fjord, for whatever reason, was dying. The Sanctuary of Dragons, was soon to be no more. You see, the Fjord was made to protect us from the outside world, from the Humans and their Monsters, their hunting of us and all our power. The Magic that powers it, cloaks its ranges in the Mist, making it near impossible for them to find, unless they knew what they were looking for. It supplied all that we would need, a place to stretch our wings, to hunt in peace, to mate and raise our families. But, the Magic was waning, the Mist was receding. That's how Kasper Fendove found the entrance of the Fjord, he was in the right place, at the right time, as the Mist lifted from it and revealed the location to him.”

“Did he go into the Fjord?” You asked, leaning forward, engrossed about the history of your great-grandfather and people.

“He did.” Dilos nodded, chuckling, so amused at the memory of the Elf. “He was a stubborn creature. But, I admired him for daring to step into the home and sanctuary of Dragons. He was allowed to live and leave, so long as he never foretold the exact location.”

“Well, he left some rather large hints.” You laughed, taking a gulp of mead. “It was because of him, that Geralt and I were able to find it, when my Dragon Heart stopped.”

“There's loop-holes in every agreement.” Dilos answered, his laugh filling the warm kitchen. “But,” He cleared his throat and took a mouthful of wine, swishing it around his mouth before swallowing. “If something didn't happen, all of the Mists would have faded and we would have been exposed to the mortals, they would have attacked us and gods know what else.” He sighed, rubbing the sweat off his face. “There were a people, living in the mountains as well, nomadic. They co-existed with us, they cared not about our power, gold or what have you. But, they were in awe of us, seeing us as Gods, worshiping us and doing our bidding. So, in honor and thanks of their worship and caring of us, I imbued them with a lot of my Magics, teaching them the way of mending wounded Dragons, and a great many of other things, related and unrelated, turning them into the Dragon Menders. Then, I went into the pool caverns, submerging myself in the deepest pool, that connected all the rest, and released myself from my earthly body, both Dragon and Human; powering up the waters with it.”

“You can do that?” You asked, shocked, awed and surprised.

“Yes, you can. But, you do die from it.” He smiled at you, sweetly. “So, that is likely why everyone believes I am dead.” He chuckled. “But, as I waited to be received into the Dragarian Halls, the after life of a Dragon,” he explained, seeing the confused look on your face. “My sacrifice was noted, and rewarded, with the ascension of my soul, turning me into the Dragon God, Dilos.”

“Was Dilos always your name?” You asked him, curiously. “Seems strange to have a God, who's name means, death and lethal.” You added, snorting at the irony of it.

“It was.” He nodded, laughing with you. “I had the option to change it, as you apparently get the option to do so, when you ascend. But, I wanted to keep it, as a reminder to not only me, but to those that worship me, that even though, I fulfilled the meaning of my name, I had become better than it.”

“Very godly.” You chuckled, nodding and agreeing with him.

“Thank you.” He smiled, still laughing. “So, I'm here, before you, as a God of your people and your great-grandfather, trying to nudge you away from the dark path I took, before it's too late, to turn back.”

You took a deep breath, and glanced around the kitchen, it felt homey, familiar and peaceful. He was right, you had started to feel yourself slipping, slipping into something that wasn't your normal self. Ever since, Maddix had burned down your home, killed your horse, kidnapped your best friend, and tried to kill, said, best friend and your husband. You had to fight the urge, as you held Maddix beneath your great Dragon foot, not to just lean all your weight on top of him, and squash him like a bug between your razor sharp talons. It was like a swirling mist in the core of your chest, trying to expand and swallow you whole. You wanted so much, even now, to chase after Maddix, like a cat chasing a mouse in a barn, always coming within swiping distance of it, before purposely falling back, to keep chasing it. Tormenting it for fun, until the mouse ran straight for its nest, where all the rest of the mice lived, and killed all of them, simply because you could, simply because they had thought they could destroy and threaten what was yours. Your fury was evident the night the cottage burned, when you absorbed the fire devouring it, channeling it and your hurt fury into Shadow's dead flesh, raising him again, changing him because of that black mist inside you.

“You are right.” You sighed, heavily, staring at your reflection in the surface of your mead. “There has been something dark stirring inside of me, ever since Maddix attacked my home and my family.” You said, softly, ashamed to admit, even in your own head; let alone, out loud.

“I know.” Dilos replied, gently, a paternal softness to his face and eyes as he looked at you. “That is why I am here, dear child.” He reached across the table and took your hand in his, squeezing it, gently. “But, that darkness, is not all bad. Hard as that may be to believe and understand.” He whispered. “Sometimes, to do things, to do the hardest of things. You have to let in a little bit of darkness; that uncaring and selfishness, to protect not only yourself, but the people you love. The key to it, though, is not to let it consomme you completely. To remember the good and bright things in life, like your love for Geralt, or healing people, the peace you got from being in your cottage, or traveling the region. Life, is all about balance.”

“My life is hugely out of balance.” You snorted, bitter.

“But, you have the things you need to make it balanced again.” Dilos told you. “You have the one true love of your life, the power of Dragons and a Sorceress, the intelligence of a well rounded and cunning woman. All you need to do, whatever it is you want, you just need to put your mind to it, and it's yours.”

“I don't know, what I want.” You sighed, a lump forming in your throat. “Other than Geralt.”

“Then, start with that, Mal Gein.” He smiled, cupping your face and caressing your cheek with his thumb, a look of pure and supportive love in his golden eyes. “And find your way from there, with him. Especially since, the dear Witcher is very concerned for you. He can see and sense the growing change in you.”

“That does explain his hovering.” You commented aloud, frowning, you had noticed the worried look on Geralt's face, since you left Crasmere.

“Come, it's growing early and the sun is to rise in your camp in a few hours.” He stood up from his stool and went back to the doorway. “I don't wish to worry the Witcher, when he rises and finds you gone.” He said, opening the door for you.

You got up and stood in front of him, a new conflict in your heart. “Will I see you again?” You asked him, afraid you wouldn't.

Dilos smiled at you, cupping your cheek again and leaned in, kissing your forehead. “Yes, and even when you don't see me, Grandchild, I will always be with you and watching over you, and yours.” He promised, giving you a fortifying hug. “May the winds always lift your wings and your heart be free.” He told you, as you stepped out the door, you turned and smiled at him, a happiness bubbling in your soul; he bowed his head to you and closed the door, it vanished a second later, leaving you alone in the empty clearing.

“What are you doing out here?” A sleepy and deep voice asked behind you.

You turned around and smiled brilliantly at your husband, who stood frowning at you, confused and concerned, even though the air was rather nippy, even through your thick cloak and clothing, Geralt stood there, his chest bare, since you had stolen his shirt, his feet were bare as well; his leather and cloth pants only tied enough to stay on his well-defined hips. He never looked any more handsome and beautiful to you, as he did here, his silvery-white loose to his shoulders and stirring in the gentle breeze. “Just-” You paused, smiling even more, you found you couldn't help how absolutely happy and content you felt.

“Just?” Geralt pressed, his already alerted concern growing, fearing something had possessed you.

“Just-” You giggled, freely and happily, you couldn't contain it. “Just finding myself and realizing, how absolutely blessed and lucky I am in life. So, many things have been taken from me, but I have gained so much more, in so many ways.” You told him, letting that warmth overtake you, feeling the scale of your life start to tip back into balance. “It doesn't matter, that the cottage burned down.”

“It doesn't?” He asked, dubious and still concerned.

“No.” You shook your head, moving closer to him. “It's a fixed place, an inanimate object.” Your mouth fell open and your eyes went wide with deep realization and understanding, it all made sense. “That wasn't _home_.” You said, finally, looking up at him. “What made it a home, is _you_. _You_ , Geralt, are my home, and it doesn't matter where I am, or where I'm not. As along as, _you_ , are with me, then, I am always home.” You rested your hands on his chilled sides. “I am sorry, that I have worried and concerned you of late, I know, I haven't been myself since it all happened. I was letting a _deadly_ darkness consume me, and it was hurting more than just me, it was hurting you as well. Hurting you, is my last wish.” You told him, a bit choked up at the end.

Geralt studied you, he'd never seen this side of you, and he had seen many of your sides. He was worried about you lately, but he could see, whatever it was that was affecting you, was starting to go away. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your warm body to his cold one, kissing your forehead where Dilos had, and nosed your hair. “You are my home, as well, y/n.” He whispered to you. “You're all, I'll ever need, or want.” He said, closing his eyes and held you tighter against him. “I'm glad, you are coming back to yourself, as well.” He added, sounding tremendously relieved.

“Me too.” You whispered back, nuzzling your face against his chest, taking in the scent of his body.

Geralt smiled into your hair, slipping his hands inside your cloak and under his shirt, his chilled, blunt fingertips grazed the warm skin of your sides, making your sides dance and you squeak out a yelp of shock at the cold sensation, making goose-bumps races over the surface of your skin. “I see, you stole my shirt.” He whispered, lips grazing your earlobe.

“It's cold out.” You whispered back, your misty breath mixing with Geralt's, smirking as your own warm fingertips trailed up the icy skin of Geralt's spine.

“You're telling me this?” He chuckled, he was cold, the exposed skin of his torso rippled with goose-bumps, but it didn't bother him, he was use to the cold; living in Kaer Morhen had gotten him use to it. But, he made a pretend shiver, for amusement.

“Oh, my dearest Witcher husband,” You giggled, pressing your lips to his chest, feeling the cool skin there warm beneath them. “Are you cold?” You teased him, blowing gently on the saliva your lips left behind, getting a genuine shiver out of him, but not from the cold.

“Not as cold as you'll be.” He chuckled, tugging the tie of your cloak free and pushed it off your shoulders.

“Hm.” You hummed, smirking at him, seeing that spark in his eyes.

“Hm, is right.” Geralt smirked, amused that you had picked up his _hm_ habit.

Moving, Geralt spread the cloak out over the icy grass and put his attention back to you, fingers curling around the band of your leggings and tugging them down, then let you lay down on the cloak, following after you. He pushed his pants out of the way and devoured your mouth in a chilled, but heated, kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, the big sleeves of his shirt slipping down your arms as you did, meeting his lips back just as hungry as he was. You gasped as you felt Geralt's cock brush between your legs, the rest of his body might be chilled by the air of oncoming winter, but his cock must certainly was not. The heat of it sheathed deep into your core, was nothing any wood fire could generate, and the warmth spread between you both, pushing out the cold that took up place in your bodies. Geralt nuzzled and kissed at your neck and chest, as his hips thrust into you, your legs tightening with every inward motion, holding him deeper and firmer inside of you, angling your hips so he hit the right spots with every one of them, making you drunk and dizzy on how good it felt to be stretched around him, like nothing anything on this planet, but Geralt, could cause and create.

“I love you, Geralt.” You panted, pressing your hands to his back.

“I love you, y/n.” He panted back, squeezing his thick arms around your torso and rolled over, pulling up his knees and kept thrusting upward as you rolled your hips, riding him.

You moaned, smiling, and dropped your head back, seeing the cloud covered stars, you pressed your hands to Geralt's chest, steadying yourself and meeting his thrusts even harder. “Lok Vah Koor.” You whispered the shout, and the clouds dissipated in a split second, showing the stars, crystal clear.

“Aé minne taedh.” Geralt moaned in Elder Speech.

“Zu'u Lokaal Hi.” You said back, in Dragarian, smiling, both of them meaning, _I love you_ , in their respective languages.

You laid down on top of Geralt after coming together, panting, but warmed despite the cold hugged in around your exposed bodies. Both of you content, sedated and happy, and completely unaware of your audience of a certain Bard, already composing the daring song of two soulmates, making love under the stars, expressing their love for each other, in the language of the body and words.


End file.
